


Mooncakes and Mocha Lattes

by cinderstorm, ObsidianButerfly



Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Canon-Typical Violence, Fai is very much so, Gen, Kurogane is Not Amused, Magical Secrets and Shenanigans, Minor Fai/OC, Minor Kurogane/Tomoyo, Minor Sakura/Syaoran, Roommates, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2020-12-24 09:15:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21097043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinderstorm/pseuds/cinderstorm, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsidianButerfly/pseuds/ObsidianButerfly
Summary: Kurogane Suwa is having a bad year. As the proprietor of the Cat's Eye Cafe, an eclectic bakery and coffee shop in the bustling town of Carnelian, all he wants is to operate his business in peace. Oh, and impress Tomoyo, the cute boutique owner from down the street. But faced with mounting debts, slim profit margins, and a rash of mysterious electrical problems, Kurogane is left with a terrible dilemma: rent out half his apartment to help cover costs or allow his cafe to fall into financial ruin.Enter Fai Fluorite: software engineer, shameless flirt, and living embodiment of everything Kurogane can't stand. Kurogane reluctantly takes Fai on as a tenant, but it isn't long before Fai's false smiles and relentless cheer start to wear on him.But there are dark forces at work in Carnelian. Rumors of rabid werewolves and power-hungry warlocks abound as the local Supernatural Crimes Division closes in on a killer—a killer with close connections to Fai. But Fai's not the only one with secrets, and if he and the rest of the cafe crew can't stop this darkness from spreading, there's a good chance they'll end up dead before the year is out.





	1. Chapter One

Fai woke to a pounding headache, a scratchy throat, and a cottoned mouth. Squinting against the sunlight streaking in through the curtains, he groaned and pulled the sheets over his head. In his current state of mind, the chirping of the birds outside sounded more like shrieking, making sleep an impossibility. _I hate birds_.

He stubbornly lay on the tiled floor, allowing the marble to leach the warmth from his feverish skin, aware of every aching muscle in his body. He managed to ignore his thirst for almost fifteen minutes before the need for water forced him push the sheets aside and crawl to his feet. Vertigo assaulted his senses, and he swayed, stumbling to the bed where a set of comfortable sweatpants had been laid out on the mattress. On the bedside table rested a pitcher of ice-cold water and a glass, along with a bottle of Advil and a folded note. Droplets of condensation trailed down the sides of the glass and onto a circle of symbols traced near the pitcher.

Sinking into the mattress, Fai chased down a tablet with a glass of water. The scent of oranges lingered in the air, and he inhaled deeply, trying to ignore the drums beating in his head. Staying in place, he drew comfort from the cool air that caressed his skin. The sweat had dried while he'd slept, leaving behind the faintly irritating itch of skin stretched taut. Despite his girlfriend's attempts at cleaning up, the room still bore signs of the previous night's activities. Sighing, Fai reached for the note.

_Fai,_

_My phone died on me so I'm leaving you a note, the cheesy, old fashioned way. I forgot to tell you last night, but I've got to meet with my supervisor today. He seems to think that my final year project proposal is a bit too ambitious, even if I _am "_something of a genius in Runic Arrays". His words, not mine. Anyhow, I've gotta head back to campus and defend my proposal before he assigns me something boring like Concept Design of a Runic Array Powered Processor._

_I've left some French toast for you on the counter, and there's a bowl of fruit in the fridge. Finish them both! And feel better soon._

_Love,_

_Maddy._

_P.S. I tried to get you back on the bed, but you're impossibly heavy now. :p I think I might have pulled a muscle or something, so you owe me a massage._

_P.S.S. Yes, I did just call you fat, but that's no excuse for you to skip your breakfast. Finish it all, or I will know._

Pulling on the sweatpants Maddy had left out for him, Fai refolded the note and put it away with a tiny smile. He drank another glass of water before getting back to his feet. Once he was certain he wasn't going to collapse, he headed to the kitchen where the promised breakfast rested on the counter. Small spirals of steam still wafted up from the plate, the citrusy fragrance of oranges heavy in the air, despite the fruit being out of season. Inhaling the familiar scent, Fai approached the counter, studying the simple runic array his girlfriend had traced at the edge of the plate in powdered sugar. It was an elegant design, if somewhat simplistic. Looking at it with a critical eye, taking care not to disturb the sugar, he noticed that the array was more compact than her previous designs. _An unorthodox approach, but brilliantly executed. She's reduced the number of critical runes in the array down to three. Her supervisor is right. Maddy_ is _a genius._

Looking down at the carefully arranged slices, Fai felt his stomach churn, knowing that he wouldn't be able to finish even half of the breakfast his girlfriend had prepared for him. Guilt wormed its way into his heart. Maddy had known that left on his own, he would simply skip the meal, so she'd stayed long enough to make something for him, even though she'd had a two hour drive back to campus. He grabbed a slice and started nibbling on a corner, forcing himself to eat. She'd come all the way to be with him last night, despite having a proposal defense in the morning.

_Maybe I should go to her next time instead. _I _can at least get a day off of work if I have to. _Maddy had insisted on coming over for the past three months, each time having had to miss an entire day of classes. _It's her final year of college, and if this keeps up—_

The ringing of his phone jerked him out of his thoughts, and he dropped the toast in surprise. Glancing mournfully at the slice lying on the floor, Fai got to his feet, scanning his surroundings. He'd left the phone lying on his bed last night, but he ultimately found it buried under a pair of fallen cushions instead. He frowned at the unknown number, wondering momentarily about the identity of the caller just as the ringing cut off. Shrugging, he was just about to put it away when it began to ring anew.

Sliding a finger across the screen, he brought it to his ear. "Hello?"

Silence, broken by the sound of heavy breathing at the other end.

"Hello?" Fai glanced at the screen once again, as if the caller's identity would magically appear in place of the unknown number. "Who is this?"

"Fai?" came Ashura's voice.

"Ashura, is everything okay?" he asked, a sense of foreboding prickling at the base of his neck. Glancing at the clock, he noticed it wasn't even seven yet. "It's not like you to call so early in the morning."

"It's—" Ashura broke off, making a frustrated noise. Fai imagined his godfather running a hand through his glossy hair. "I can't recall what happened last night."

Fai's pulse quickened, a heavy lump settling in the pit of his stomach. "Are you at home?"

"No. I don't know where I am," Ashura replied, trying to sound calm and failing. "I don't understand how this _happened_. I took all the precautions. Locked the doors, sent away the staff, headed down to the basement. I shouldn't be waking up covered in blood!"

"W-What?" Fai gasped. The air seemed suddenly drained of moisture.

"I… I think I might have killed someone," Ashura said slowly. "There's no body, but there's too much blood for anyone to have survived. _Kerkés be damned!_ I should have gotten your brother to ward the basement. The mark is getting darker. I should_—_"

"Ashura?" Fai said, interrupting his godfather's distracted rambling. The phone casing creaked in his grip as he realized the direction Ashura's thoughts were taking. Four months ago, his life had fallen apart, but things had been getting better. Maddy had forced her way through the walls he'd built and made him see reason. After a rough couple of months, he'd finally started coming to terms with what had happened to him. But then he'd come across Ashura and that accursed brand tattooed over his heart, the one that reeked of dark magic. It had been a faint outline then, but with each full moon the mark had grown darker, and with it, so had the effects. And now…

Ashura breathed deeply, as though gathering strength. "You need to keep your promise to me, Fai."

"What? No!" Fai yelled, fear digging its icy claws into his chest.

"I _killed_ someone last night, Fai," Ashura repeated. "I'm past the point of no return. You promised me you would—"

"No!" Fai cried, once again cutting off Ashura's words. "There's still time. There's a whole month until the next full moon, and you can't be blamed for doing something under the effects of a curse. And—"

Ashura sighed in the manner he did every time the topic was brought up. "Fai…"

"Ashura, please. You can't ask me to do that, not when I'm so close to figuring out how to fix all this. I've got a promising lead and… Please, I'm so close to finding the cure."

"You are?" There it was. A spark of hope in Ashura's otherwise detached tone.

"Yes." Fai latched on to that spark, desperately kindling it into something more sustainable. "I've gotten in touch with an expert. She's a _wizard_, Ashura. If anyone can figure out a way to break this curse, she can. I was going to visit her after work today and—actually, I'll take the day off and head straight over. Just as soon as I've come and gotten you. Now, can you figure out where you are?"

"No, no," Ashura said firmly, returning to the stern godfather Fai knew. "I don't want you directly involved in my mess."

"If you're certain," Fai responded hesitantly. "Just… Promise me you're not going to turn yourself in to the SCD."

"Fai…"

"_Promise me,_ Ashura, or I'll show up at the station and confess to being your accomplice."

"I… All right." Ashura sighed in defeat. "I'll get back home. And Fai?"

"Yes?"

"Please be careful."

"I think I should be the one telling you that." Fai laughed softly, his spirits lifting with the knowledge that he'd managed to save his godfather, at least for the time being. "Please don't let yourself be seen. And if you need my help—"

"I'll be fine, Fai," his godfather said. The call disconnected with a _click._

Letting the phone drop from his hand, Fai collapsed on the bed as the smile slid of his face. _Oh Kerkés, _he prayed, leaning heavily against the intricately carved mahogany bedframe, _please let this be what I'm looking for. I can't… I can't give Ashura what he wants._

Fai's gaze wandered to the corner of his living room, sliding across the overflowing bookshelf and the desktop groaning under the weight of ancient tomes. His eyes lingered on the frame that held a photo him and his brother on their eighteenth birthday, grinning widely at the camera, unaware of the darkness that lay in their future. His brother's smiling face drew his thoughts to the dozens of emails resting in his inbox, each responded to with some variation of "I'm okay but I can't talk right now. Swamped with work. :) "

_"Just talk to him, Fai. Cutting him off is not the solution," _Maddy had told him. Fai shook his head. He refused to drag Yuui into his mess. He glanced at the pile of folders resting next to the desktop. Dozens of pages filled with useless spell designs. He'd tried everything he could think of: light magic, dark magic, the arcane and the obscure. Nothing had provided a solution. He'd almost given up hope until Maddy had mentioned _her, _the wizard rumored to be well-versed in curse-breaking. After months of fruitless searching, he could only hope that the woman could help him. He'd exhausted every other resource.

Mind made up, Fai grabbed his mobile and tapped on a familiar contact. "Hello, Eagle? It's Fai. Yes, I'm sorry. Something's come up, and I can't make it in today. Let the boss know that it's a family emergency. Yes, I know. I remember the deadline. Don't worry, it should be ready for a demo before the week is out. I'll put in some extra hours tomorrow. Yes, thank you. I owe you."

*

** **Several weeks later:** **

"I want a medium half-caff, sugar-free vanilla latte with skim milk and an extra pump of vanilla. Oh, and can I get that at a hundred and twenty degrees instead of one-forty?"

"For here or to go?" Kurogane asked, biting back the retort clawing its way up his throat as he keyed in the order. Requests like this were the reason he spent most of his time in the back, baking or cleaning or balancing ledgers. Why did people have to be so damned picky, anyway? What was wrong with ordering a regular vanilla latte?

"To go," Primera said, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "I've got a photo shoot at the park in half an hour."

He grunted, then turned to Shougo. "And for you?"

"Caramel mocha with whipped cream," Shougo said, setting a can of orange soda on the counter. "And this for the kid."

Masayoshi, the kid in question, rose to his tiptoes in delight, nearly overbalancing as he forgot to compensate for the sixty-some pounds of camera equipment strapped to his back. "Wow, thanks, Shougo!"

Kurogane typed in the order. "Eleven ninety-one," he said, printing off a receipt and passing it to Syaoran as Shougo handed over his card. The kid had already prepped a cup and started steaming milk, well-accustomed to the rigors of the morning rush. As he did that, the machine drizzled espresso into several cups, each marked with the initials of whatever kind of drink it was supposed to be. The kid might be a disaster in the kitchen, but he was the best damned barista Kurogane had, and he didn't balk at Primera's overly-specific order.

"Thanks, man," Shougo said, following Primera to the pick-up counter as Kurogane returned his card. Masayoshi trudged behind them, the bag of camera equipment swinging ponderously from his shoulder.

_Kid's probably going to have back problems by the time he hits twenty-five,_ Kurogane thought, and turned to the next person in line. "Souma," he said, inclining his head in her direction as he poured her usual coffee—light roast with cream, large, to go.

"Kurogane," she replied, nodding. "I'm going to need a coffee for Kendappa, too, while you're over there."

"She too busy to come get it herself?"

Souma snorted, the barest hint of a smile crossing her face. "She's working on a case. Told her I'd swing by and get her something to drink besides that sludge they make at her office."

"You'd think a bunch of lawyers would be able to afford decent coffee beans." He filled another cup, this one with dark roast, no cream, also large.

"Problem's not the beans—their last intern walked out in a huff a couple days ago, and her replacement doesn't know his mouth from his ass. Sorry," she said, flicking a glance toward Syaoran. "Forgot I wasn't at work."

Kurogane shrugged. "Nothing he hasn't heard before." Gods knew he swore a lot when he was pissed. His employees either got used to it or quit.

"Anyone call about the apartment?" Souma asked as they made the transaction.

"Had a family of three come in to look at it, but they decided it wasn't big enough. Can't blame them; it's not exactly the Taj Mahal."

Souma grabbed her drinks, then paused, looking up. "You know you've got a light bulb out, right?"

"Fuck, _again_?" He glared at the offending bulb as if it had dealt him a personal insult.

"Electrical troubles?"

"It's the fifth fucking light bulb this week! I ordered a box of the damned things two months ago, and I'm already running out. Stupid, shoddy wiring."

"You should probably call someone about that," Souma said. "Could be a fire hazard."

Kurogane grumbled a string of expletives that had Syaoran glancing over in shock.

"Anyway," Souma said, stepping away from the counter, "I've got to get to work. Training in a new prep cook today, going to see if he can hack it. Good luck finding a roommate."

Kurogane let out a slow breath, shoving his aggravation into a distant corner of his mind. "Right. See you tomorrow." He watched her go, wiping down the countertop. He'd met Souma in culinary school, and she'd eventually joined the list of people he actually gave a shit about—a rare and prestigious honor, considering that half the time he wanted to tell the whole world to fuck off. Most days, he had the kids work up front so he wouldn't have to deal with people. But Sakura had called in sick this morning, sounding so wretched that he hadn't even told her to find someone else to cover her shift, just assured her he'd take care of it. She'd probably be out tomorrow, too, which meant he'd have to get Watanuki to watch the front in addition to handling the deli stuff. Kurogane knew he ought to hire more people, but it cost money to train new employees, and even then, you never knew if they were any good until they'd had a month to practice. He'd been lucky to find as many solid, dedicated employees as he had.

The door chime alerted him to another customer entering. He dropped his cleaning rag back in the sani-bucket and mustered up his most cheerful expression. Which still wasn't all that cheerful, but at least it didn't make him look like he was about to bite someone's head off.

The man lingered in the doorway for a moment, sapphire eyes sweeping over the earth-toned walls, the rounded tables, the delineation of brick-red tile and patterned carpet. Kurogane didn't recognize him, not even in the vague way he recognized those patrons who only came in every couple of months, but with his fine blond hair and insipid smile, the guy _looked _like the sort of brainless airhead who relied too much on charm and not enough on practical life skills. Like a male version of Primera, complete with designer clothes.

Kurogane hated him instantly.

After a few seconds of standing in the doorway, the blond strode up to the counter, flashing a smile fit for a fashion magazine. "Good morning!"

"Morning," Kurogane asked, keeping his tone neutral. "What can I get for you?"

"Actually, I'm here about the apartment. I tried calling this morning, but no one picked up."

"Right. Yeah." He'd listed the store's number in the ad, since he spent most of his time down here anyway, but sometimes things got so hectic in the mornings that there just wasn't time to pick up the phone, and he vaguely remembered ignoring a call during the seven-thirty rush. "Apartment's upstairs. Kid, watch the front for a minute."

"Sure," Syaoran said distractedly, still finishing up the last of the orders.

"And make sure to take those scones out of the oven when the buzzer goes off—should only be a couple minutes." The kid could probably manage that. He'd only set fire to the kitchen once.

"Right. I will."

Kurogane turned back to the blond. "You got a name?"

"Fai D. Fluorite. And you?"

"Kurogane."

Fai's eyelashes fluttered. "Hmm. Not sure I'll be able to remember that. How about we shorten it to Kuro-rin?"

"No."

"Kuro-chan?"

"_No._"

"Kuro-myu?"

"_No_! It's Kurogane, goddamn it. And I don't have time for idiots, so if you're just going to stand there and make fun of my name, get out."

"Ah, my apologies. Miss Yuuko said you were fun to rile up. I didn't mean to carry it too far."

Kurogane stiffened, then cursed. "That _witch_. Figures she had something to do with this."

"Actually, she's a wizard, not a witch. Practitioners of magic can get a little prickly about—"

"I _know_ she's a wizard. She—" He stopped before he could say that Yuuko had pretty much raised him after his parents had been killed, that she'd taken him in and set him on a better path. It wasn't any of the idiot's business. "The stairwell is this way," he said. "C'mon." He gestured for Fai to come around the other side of the counter and led him into the back, past the industrial ovens and three-basin sink. A stack of dirty dishes filled the rinse sink, mugs balanced precariously atop plates, while smaller implements soaked in coffee-stained pitchers filled with soapy water. As always, the air back here was noticeably more humid than the air in the customer area, heavy against his skin.

Toward the back door, a small stairwell lined with rubbery, non-skid matting common to cafes and kitchens everywhere led up to the apartment Kurogane had lived in for the past two years. "There's another stairwell outside," he said, keeping to one side of the steps to avoid the boxes that had overflowed the back room. "I can't have random people coming through the back while the cafe's open, and you won't have a key for the store, so if you decide to move in, that's the stairwell you'll be using." He paused at the top of the steps to unlock the door, then glanced over his shoulder.

The blond had paused halfway up the stairs, looking distracted. "You have protective runes embedded in your walls," he noted, brushing his fingertips across a row of markings carved into the sheetrock.

Kurogane scowled. "That a problem?"

"No. Just a surprise. Yuuko didn't mention you were a practitioner."

He bristled, turning his back on the idiot. "I'm not. The runes were here before I bought the place, but they haven't been maintained for years." All technically true, though Yuuko had sewn other spells into the cafe's foundations to ward off anyone with hostile intentions. It wasn't perfect—anyone who knew about the enchantments could circumvent them with a bit of effort—but spells like this were important for security, particularly for a business that openly welcomed supernaturals. Hate crimes had gotten rarer since he was a kid, but they still happened, and perception wards required little maintenance. "You coming up or not?"

Fai spent another moment studying the runes, then darted up the last few steps and breezed across the threshold, his eyes roving over the pale brown walls, the tiny kitchenette, the tattered couch sitting across from the TV Kurogane had bought on sale a few years back. A glass coffee table stood between the couch and the television, and though he'd cleared it off a couple days ago in the hopes that the neatness would appeal to potential roommates, it had already become cluttered with paperwork and unpaid bills.

"Cozy," Fai remarked.

Kurogane shrugged. "The first bedroom down the hall is mine," he said, tilting his head toward his door—closed, with a poster of a dragon taped to the front. Fai wandered down the hall, peering into the empty room beyond it. "That's the guest room. If you decide to move in, that's where you'll be sleeping. The last tenant left a bed-frame in there—too much of a hassle to move—but there's no mattress, so you'll have to pick one up yourself or sleep on the floor. You can paint the walls whatever color you like. Within reason," he added when Fai opened his mouth. "But if you decide to paint it some hideous shade of pink, don't expect your security deposit back."

The blond frowned slightly, considering. "How sturdy are the walls?"

Kurogane narrowed his eyes. "Why? You planning on knocking them down?"

"I thought I might put in an entertainment center," Fai said. "I'd fill in the holes before I leave, of course, but I want to know how strong the walls are before I install anything."

"Tch. It would take a day and a half to knock the walls down, even with a sledgehammer. They're reinforced—enchantments woven into the support struts." Those same enchantments could stop bullets, so long as they didn't have a high iron content. A less common security measure than the perception wards, but one he'd insisted upon.

"Impressive. How much for the first month?"

Kurogane frowned. He had no illusions about the quality of the apartment; it was a shabby place, barely big enough for two people. He'd half-expected this guy to walk away before he even finished the tour. "Three-fifty per month, and we share the main living spaces. An additional four-hundred for the security deposit."

"Deal."

_The hell?_ "You haven't even seen the bathroom yet," he said. This guy couldn't be _that _much of an airhead, that he'd agree to move in without seeing the whole apartment, could he?

"I'm sure it's fine," Fai said, reaching into his wallet and producing eight hundred-dollar bills. "I'll throw in the extra fifty if you help me haul some of the heavier boxes up."

Kurogane stared, not sure whether to be indignant about being treated like a pack mule, bewildered by the swiftness with which this guy had accepted his terms, or suspicious the fact that he'd produced eight-hundred dollars in _cash _without so much as blinking. "You're not some kind of drug lord, are you?" he asked, settling on suspicion.

"Hmm? Oh, no—that would be _far _too dangerous. I'm a software engineer." He pressed the money into Kurogane's hand, smiling brightly. "Yuuko said she would handle the paperwork, so if you could just give her a call to confirm the deal, that would be great."

_Oh, so now I'm a fucking secretary, too? _Kurogane swallowed the words before they could escape. He'd already started composing a mental list of things he disliked about this guy, but after having to replace the heating element in the espresso machine last month, he really _did _need the money. "Fine," he said. Then, because he'd be damned if he didn't at least try to salvage his dignity, he added, "But I'm not helping you carry up your crap." 

"No?" Amusement twinkled in Fai's eyes. "Well, I had to try." He paused, his eyebrows pulling together. "Is something burning? It smells like smoke in here."

Kurogane opened his mouth to reply that he didn't smell anything, then froze. "Oh, _fuck._ The scones." He sprinted back to the door, yanking it open and barreling down the steps. He was already halfway down the stairs when he heard the door collide with the sheetrock behind him, and by then, he could hear the buzzer going off on one of the ovens. "Shit, shit, shit!"

His torrent of expletives must have been louder than he'd thought, because a moment later, the kid burst through the door, letting out a yelp as his eyes fell upon the oven. "Ah!"

"Goddamn it, I told you to keep an eye on the scones!"

"I'm sorry! I got distracted—we had another wave of customers. I didn't mean to—" He yelped again as Kurogane shoved past him to grab the tattered oven mitts from their hook before opening the oven doors. A wave of heat rolled across his skin, bringing with it the scent of smoke. Pulling on the heat-resistant mitts, he thrust his hands into the depths of the oven and pulled out a sheet pan dotted with the charred remains of the blueberry scones he'd portioned out half an hour ago, setting the pan on the metal countertop before turning to Syaoran.

"I'm sorry," the boy squeaked, backing away. "It was an accident."

"Out."

"I didn't—"

"_Out!_"

Syaoran spun and scurried through the door. Kurogane stared down at the scorched pan, breathing hard, the blood vessels at his temple thrumming. After a few seconds, he became aware of Fai peering at him from the steps. "What?" he snapped.

Fai's gaze dropped to the pan. "One last question."

"What is it?" Kurogane asked, infusing his voice with his last ounce of civility.

"If we're going to be roommates, do I get a discount on your pastries?"


	2. Chapter Two

Fai showed up at the cafe early in the morning on moving day and called Kurogane to let him know he had arrived. The cafe owner picked up the phone the third ring. "Hello?"

"Good morning, Kuro-chi~"

"Oh, it's you," Kurogane grunted, not sounding fully awake. "What d'you want?"

"Just calling to let you know that I'm outside."

"Already? Hang on." The call cut off with a _click,_and a minute later Kurogane stepped outside with a large mug of coffee in one hand. He eyed the boxes loaded onto the backseat of Fai's car and frowned, no doubt remembering the extra cash Fai had slipped him during their previous meeting. "So, you want some help with moving your stuff?" he asked halfheartedly.

Fai shook his head, taking pity on him. Kurogane obviously wanted to go back to the kitchen and finish prepping for the day. Spotting the movers' truck coming to a halt in front of the building, Fai pointed at the two well-built assistants that hopped out of the vehicle. "It's okay. The movers sent those nice gentlemen to help me."

He didn’t miss the flash of relief on Kurogane’s face, though he did give Fai a distrustful look as he handed over the keys to the apartment. “Just try not to mess up the living room. I’ve got a bunch of order forms on the coffee table that I have to deal with before lunch.”

It was obvious from his tone that he thought Fai was an idiot, or at least an airhead. Fai wasn't sure why he’d think so, given that Fai had already mentioned his day job as a software engineer. Surely, Kurogane knew an idiot would be hard pressed to keep such a competitive and demanding job, much less make enough money to spend exorbitantly on personal luxuries. Nevertheless, it was rather amusing to see Kurogane's frustration settle into resignation at having to suffer Fai's company.

_I wonder if I could play the dumb blond card with this guy. Yuui will certainly get a kick out of it when I— _

A pang of guilt and loneliness hit Fai at the thought of his brother and the dozens of unread emails and unopened voicemails in his inbox. Fai shook his head and turned to lead the movers up the stairs to the apartment's external entrance. He slid the antique key into the keyhole and gave it a twist. The door swung open with a loud creak, and Fai made a mental note to have the hinges oiled before the end of the day.

After taking another look at his bedroom, Fai decided that his entertainment and gaming system would be better suited in the living room. Wrinkling his nose at the ancient television, he had the movers unplug and push it to the farthest corner of the room.In its place he had them set down his entertainment system, deciding that his 55” LED flat screen had an infinitely better picture quality than the clunky box Kurogane had tried to pass off as a T.V. set. The central coffee table, as well as Kurogane’s super-important-don’t-touch-those order forms, Fai secured under a phoenix paperweight procured from his personal knickknacks and pushed against the wall. Fai was certain Kurogane would appreciate the addition to the living room. And if he complained about it… well, it wasn’t like there would be any room left in the bedroom after Fai put up his brand new bookshelves and his work table.

While Fai had put most of the furniture from his old place in storage, he hadn't been able to part with the comfortable navy blue couch and its multitude of throw cushions. He directed the movers to set it down in place of Kurogane's threadbare sofa. The high-backed armchair, however, Fai left alone. It went well with the couch and the beige rug he'd gotten as a gift from his brother. Once they'd brought up everything except for the storage boxes containing his library, Fai paid the men and sent them on their way. Refusing to let anyone touch his precious books meant the movers ended up missing a few the boxes of his personal belongings, but it was worth it for the privacy.

After bringing up the first box, Fai spent the next couple of hours assembling the bookshelves in his room. Looking at the unopened box, he figured he might as well unpack the books before bringing the rest up. Half an hour later, he caught himself going through a volume plastered with Post-it notes filled with anecdotes, notes, and possible theories in his cursive handwriting. All those calligraphy lessons from his childhood had instilled a tidiness in his handwriting that was completely at odds with his habit of leaving everything in a well-organized, chaotic mess. But it wasn't until he came across a small note covered in his brother's loopy scrawl that guilt curdled in his stomach, making him dig his nails into the book's cover. Yuui had sent him dozens of voicemails in the past couple of days when he'd found out Fai was moving away. And instead of talking to his brother about it, Fai had ignored every single one of them as he'd run away like a coward. Yuui had to be sick with worry, and Fai couldn't even bring himself to answer a call. Gritting his teeth, Fai snapped the book shut and shoved it back into place on the bookshelf, then retreated downstairs to grab the rest of his stuff.

As he brought up box after box, his thoughts found ways to return to his brother. Between the two of them, Yuui had turned out to have better luck. A steady, high-paying job, a beautiful fiancée, and the possibility of achieving Wizard status within the magical community in just over a year. Fai's gaze drifted towards the bookshelf that currently held his own incomplete research on the practical application of acoustic symbology to electronic harmonization. If he ever decided to finish it, he could still have it published in a respectable journal, but the possibility of ever achieving Wizard status was—

Fai shoved that thought away and returned downstairs to grab the last box. Once in the living room, he rested the container on the arm of the couch, taking a moment to catch his breath. His arms were aching by now, and he could hear his back screaming at him. He _had _been lugging around the essentials of his private library and all of his research for the better half of the morning, so it was a little surprising that fatigue had only just set in. Then again, he hadn’t really pushed himself to his undiscovered limits since the incident__.__ Between juggling various project deadlines at work, exploring new avenues to help Ashura with his problem, and making time for his girlfriend, he rarely had time to do anything else. 

Balancing the box that he had set down against his legs, Fai stretched his arms towards the roof until he felt his back pop.

“What in the hell did you do up here?" Kurogane shouted, making Fai jump in surprise. He hadn’t even heard the man come upstairs. "Hey, I thought I told you not to touch those order forms!"

Fai whirled around, momentarily forgetting about the box resting against his legs. Too late to catch it, Fai could only watch in horror as the box collided with the floor, the lid springing open to send its contents skittering across the floor. Kurogane’s eyes widened as he looked down at the set of sturdy chains sprawled across the wood before looking back up at Fai. “What the fuck?” 

"Whatever do you mean, Kuro-buro?" Fai feigned nonchalance despite his heart thundering against his rib cage. He pointed towards the coffee table with a confused tilt to his head. “Your order forms are right there on the table.”

"Why do you have those?" Kurogane demanded, apparently having forgotten all about his oh-so-important forms as he stared down at the chains. It was obvious from the bafflement on Kurogane's face that he was revisiting his decision to take Fai on as a tenant.

Fai shrugged helplessly before crouching to put them away. “They’re my girlfriend’s.”

“What?”

_Maddy is going to kill me._ Fai looked up with a silly grin plastered on his face. “She’s adventurous.” He blindly reached for the box’s lid with his right hand while the left shoved all the chains back inside.

“_Adventurous?_” 

“Don’t tell me you’ve never experimented with your girlfriend before, Kuro-chi,” Fai said, closing the box as he stood up, the package now firmly secured in his arms. 

“My name is _Kurogane_,__” the man snapped. “And I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Really?” Fai widened his eyes in mock surprise, letting his features slacken just a bit before turning to make his way back to his bedroom. “I’d have thought a handsome man like you would have been beating them back with a stick. Unless, of course, they’re not your type. If you bat for the other team, you don’t have to worry about a thing about me. I'm taken.”

“What? No! That’s not— I don’t have time for dating. And even if I did, who I date is none of your damned business.”

“Relax, Kuro-tan,” Fai threw a smile over his shoulder as he approached the wardrobe across from his bed. Sliding a door open, he quickly shoved the container to the very back, burying it under two bags containing his folded clothes. “I’m not judging.”

The man scowled as he stalked into the room after Fai, his expression shifting to curiosity as he looked around. Fai saw him turn his focus on the bookshelf next to the doorway as Kurogane appeared to scan the titles of the books before reaching out to pluck one from the shelf. Fai felt his breath catch as Kurogane cracked open the spine and riffled through the pages. “You a witch or something?” 

“Actually that would be—” Fai responded before catching himself. He gave the man a sheepish grin. “I’m a bit of a hobbyist. I can’t use magic, though I do enjoy researching magical theory in my spare time.”

“The witch did mention you being here for some sort of research project when I called,” Kurogane said, looking doubtful as he gave Fai a once over. Shaking his head, he set the book down and turned away. “Figured she was pulling my leg, considering how much of an airhead you are,” he muttered under his breath. 

Fai considered refuting the airhead comment but ultimately held his silence. By all reason, the words should have been too soft for him to hear. Still... Fai couldn't let the comment slide altogether. He followed the man back into the living room, watching as Kurogane retrieved the forms from the coffee table.

"By the way, Kuro-buro," Fai sang, giving him a blinding smile when a vein throbbed at Kurogane’s temple.

"_What?_"

"I just wanted to say that if you ever want some advice on how to _really_ please your partner, don't be shy about asking!" 

Kurogane's face went red as he sputtered in mortification and rage. Fai laughed, retreating to the safety of his room before Kurogane had the chance to act on his murderous impulses. Fai locked the door moments before fists pounded against the wood. “Come back here so I can kill you!” 

The scent of oregano filled the air as the protective runes woven into the walls activated, and Fai let out a relieved sigh. It was good to have confirmation that the room was as solidly built as Kurogane had claimed.

“But if you kill me,” Fai said in a singsong tone, “who will pay the rent for my room, Kuro-chu?” 

Kurogane made an inarticulate sound, pounding against the door like a raging bull before quieting down. He continued raging for another five minutes before Fai heard the distant ring of a phone somewhere downstairs. Kurogane paused****, ****and there was silence for all of six seconds before he cursed and then left the apartment altogether. Fai winced at the sound of the door slamming. _Maybe next time, I shouldn’t push him that far…_ Fai frowned in thought before shaking his head. _Nah, where would be the fun in that?_

Unlocking the door, Fai went to retrieve the rest of his belongings from the living room. One by one, he unpacked the boxes and went about arranging everything to his liking, dragging the bedframe next to the window from where he had a perfect view of the street. He brought out and hung up the curtains on the rod and repositioned the rug before setting up his workspace. Finally, after three hours of nonstop work and skipping out on lunch, Fai was left with only his books to unpack.

Halfway through his sorting, Fai came across the research materials he’d collected for Ashura’s problem and felt a wave of dread. _What if it takes too long to find the cure? _a treacherous part of his mind whispered. _Or what if there isn’t one? _Fai imagined himself telling Ashura of his failure, pictured the way acceptance would creep across his features as he asked Fai to fulfill his promise. Panic replaced the dread, and Fai quickly set the notebook down.

_No! Failure is not an option. I’ll invent something for him if there isn’t a way. _

And then there was Yuuko. The wizard had called him the previous night, asking to meet with her in the evening after Fai had finished moving in. While she hadn’t offered him anything else, Fai had felt his spirits rise all the same. She must have an answer for him. Even if Fai couldn’t do anything himself, there was still Yuuko. She would—

“So this is your new place,” he heard his girlfriend say. Fai whirled around to find her leaning against the doorway, a bag slung across her right shoulder. “I approve.” She grinned, pushing a stray curl behind her ear before making her way over to the bed. Dropping the bag on the mattress, she rested her hands on her hips and turned around to survey the room. “Not bad. I was half worried you were going to rent out a dungeon or something.”

“A dungeon?” Fai chuckled, quirking a brow. _Wasn’t she supposed to meet me for dinner after her classes?_He glanced out the window and realized that sun had already started its descent beneath the horizon.

“Okay, fine.” Maddy stuck out her tongue before flopping down on the mattress. “You probably won’t be able to find a dungeon in a city like this. But don’t say you didn’t think about renting someone’s basement.”

Fai wisely kept his mouth shut. Maddy sat up, turning to look at him in disbelief. “Really, Fai?” Fai shrugged, grinning sheepishly, and Maddy shook her head. “For a smart guy, you can be _such _an idiot sometimes.”

“I’m quite certain my flatmate will agree with you on the idiot part.” 

**“**Speaking of your flatmate, what’s the deal with tall, dark, and grumpy?” she asked and Fai felt a sense of foreboding. “He gave me kind of a weird look when I was heading up here earlier.”

Fai thought of the box of chains stowed in his closet and adopted a puzzled look. “I haven’t the foggiest.”

Maddy frowned. Fai felt a bead of sweat forming at the nape of his neck under her scrutiny, until his stomach rumbled loudly and she sighed.

“You missed lunch.”

“I was busy?” 

“Sure sure, Blondie****.****” She rolled her eyes and dug in her bag, grabbing her wallet. “Come on, let’s go and grab an early dinner. How do you feel about Chinese food? There’s this place near my dorms that makes a killer szechuan chow mein. You’re going to _love_it__.__” 

“It’s to be melt-my-tongue spicy, isn’t it?” Fai guessed, dutifully following after her, grabbing his jacket and car keys as they exited the room. 

“Of course.” She slowed long enough to plant a kiss on his cheek. Giving him a teasing wink, she added, “Don’t worry though. They’ve got some wimpy bland stuff for idiotic boyfriends.”

*

“—and one blueberry scone,” Sakura said, passing the translucent bakery bag across the counter. “Have a great day!”

The elderly woman’s mouth pulled into a crinkled smile. “You as well, dear,” she said, shuffling toward the exit. “You as well.”

Sakura set the tongs back in the bakery case and slid the window shut before plucking a rag from the nearest sani-bucket and heading to the customer area to wipe down the tables. The morning rush had subsided about half an hour ago, around the same time the movers had left, but lunchtime would bring another surge of people. If she didn't wipe down the tables now, she might not get another chance before the end of her shift.

“How is everything going over here?” she asked as she cleared the plates from the low table between Ryuuo and Yuzuriha.

“It's going_ great,” _Yuzuriha gushed, lifting her phone to show Sakura the picture she'd taken of the black forest frappe she'd purchased an hour ago. Bits of frozen strawberry lay scattered atop the whipped cream, nestled among curls of dark chocolate. “I've already had fifteen people reblog this pic. If traffic keeps increasing, I might actually be able to monetize the account!”

“Congratulations.” Sakura beamed. Yuzuriha's blog had started out as an eclectic array of restaurant reviews, architecture, and mood-boards before gradually transforming into a sort of local guidebook with a strong aesthetic appeal. That transformation had been helped along by Ryuuo, whose double-major in marketing and computer science had allowed him to refine Yuzuriha’s innate sense of style into something that could attract and retain an increasingly large stream of followers. They’d brought a fair amount of business to the cafe, enough that even if Sakura hadn't already liked them, she'd have made an extra effort to ensure their continued patronage.

“Hey, Sakura,” Yuzuriha said, “do you have any more of that coconut cake?”

“Certainly! One slice or two?”

A rueful smile crossed Yuzuriha's face. “Just one, to go. My last paycheck was a little light.”

Sakura nodded. “I'll go box one up for you.”

“Thanks.”

She bustled back to the counter, collecting another stack of dirtied plates and abandoned cups on her way, then boxed up a generous slice of coconut cake, taking care not to smear the frosting. Yuzuriha might decide to take some last-minute pictures before she left, but only if the cake looked camera-ready. By the time she closed the lid, Yuzuriha had made her way to the counter and counted out her money in exact change.

As they finished the transaction, the door chimed. Sakura glanced up, a greeting already on her lips, then rose to her tiptoes as she recognized Syaoran by his cocoa-brown hair. “Syaoran! What are you doing here? It's your day off.”

His expression warmed. “My professor moved her Egyptian history lecture to tomorrow, so I thought I'd come see you. I mean—everyone. Not just you. But it's great to see you, too, of course.” A flush crept across his tanned cheeks, matching the one surely sweeping across her own.

Picking up her box, Yuzuriha winked. “Careful,” she stage-whispered. “I think he likes you.”

Sakura felt her blush spread across the back of her neck, deepening as Syaoran stammered a reply. “N-no! We're just friends. I wouldn't—”

“Sure, you wouldn't.” Yuzuriha patted Syaoran's shoulder on her way back to her table. “Try not to get your cooties all over the counter, okay?”

From the front of the shop, Ryuuo snickered. “Come on, Yuzu—you’ve meddled enough. Any more and Sakura here is going to start looking like a strawberry.”

_I probably do already._She patted her cheeks in a vain attempt to cool them, but that did nothing to smother the thrill self-consciousness that crackled along her nerves. “Have a nice day!” she called, voice high-pitched with strain.

Syaoran recovered first, resting his elbows on the counter and tilting his chin toward the kitchen. “Where's Kurogane?”

“He went upstairs to take care of next week’s delivery order, I think,” Sakura said. “Do you want me to go get him?”

“No, no. It's just that he spends so much time working, it's strange not to see him here.” He hesitated, then met her eyes, his expression troubled. “Have you been here all morning?”

She nodded. “I told Kurogane I would work a double today, since I missed a couple days last week. Anyway, he needs the break more than I do.”

Syaoran's eyebrows drew together, and Sakura knew their thoughts were running in parallel. Kurogane had worked the last fifteen days straight, sometimes two or three shifts in a row, and though he'd not yet reached a breaking point, his mood grew more volatile every day. Syaoran had told her about the incident with the scones, and though she'd been careful not to stir up his ire since, Kurogane had a tendency to get snappish when he pushed himself too hard.

“I'm sure once he hires some new employees, he'll relax a little,” she said, though she knew he was waiting for business to pick up before he scheduled any job interviews. Kurogane had avoided mentioning it directly, but they could all feel the financial crunch, and additional employees were an expensive luxury. And then of course there was Kurogane's new roommate. Fai seemed perfectly nice, even charming, but even in the handful of interactions she’d glimpsed, it was obvious his exuberant cheer grated on Kurogane.

“Maybe,” Syaoran said, sounding unconvinced. “I suppose—” He broke off as the door chimed, stepping aside as Touya and Yukito swept into the cafe.

“Morning, brat,” Touya said, then glanced at Syaoran. “You're not bothering my little sister, are you?”

“No.” Syaoran glowered, stepping aside as Touya leaned against the counter.

Sakura forced a smile, biting back her annoyance at her brother's intrusion. “Good morning, Yukito,” she said, tipping her head in Yukito's direction.

“Good morning.” Yukito adjusted his spectacles and peered into the bakery case, his gaze falling upon a plate of pinwheel-shaped pastries. “Strawberry or raspberry?

“Strawberry.”

“I'll take one of those, to go.”

As she dropped the pastry in a bag, Touya spoke. “Why don't you put that other brat to work and have him pour me a coffee?”

“Syaoran's not working today,” she said, infusing her voice with a note of reproach. “He just stopped by to visit.”

Touya's smirk fell away, eyes flickering to the pick-up counter. Syaoran stood stiffly, staring at the spice-brown wall with the intensity of a person trying very hard not to look at anything else. “Did he, now?” Touya said, his voice neutral.

Frustration flickered in Sakura's chest. _Why do you always treat him like this?_she almost said, fingers curling. Syaoran had never done anything to deserve Touya's scorn, but that didn't seem to matter—to Touya, even something as innocuous as Syaoran stopping by on his day off was reason for suspicion. She understood why he thought that way. As a detective, he dealt with a lot of troubled kids, many of whom had been through the foster care system like Syaoran, and she could see why Syaoran’s background might make her brother wary. It wasn't _right_, __but she could see it.

“Syaoran has been a perfect gentleman,” she said crisply, exchanging Yukito's money for the strawberry pinwheel, all without breaking eye contact with Touya. “You should be nicer to him.”

“Anyone can act like a gentleman if they think it’ll get them what they want.”

The frustration flared into anger, bright and hot, like a flame rushing through her lungs. But before she could chastise Touya for his lack of tact, the blender whirred to life behind her. Startled, she spun around, eyes going to Syaoran. Had he . . . ?

But no. Syaoran looked just as startled as she felt, and anyway, he was still on the customer side of the counter. Sakura frowned, walking over to shut off the machine. “That was strange.”

“It's probably the wiring,” Syaoran said. “We _have _been having a lot of electrical issues lately.”

“It could be supernatural in nature,” Yukito said. “Spirits can sometimes create electrical disturbances.”

She frowned. It was possible. Watanuki had mentioned a pair of spirits—shades, really—that sometimes ghosted through the cafe, and once in a while, she caught him speaking to the empty air as if interacting with a customer. The wards prevented anything truly malevolent from entering the property, so whatever it was likely meant no harm. Still, perhaps she ought to ask Watanuki if he'd seen anything unusual lately—the electrical troubles, however playful, _were _becoming a nuisance.

When she turned back to Touya, she found him digging through a box of chocolate truffles. “We're out of the speckled ones,” she said.

“Damn. Do you think—” He broke off as the door chimed, then straightened as he recognized the apron-clad figure striding up to the counter. “Hey, Souma, how have you been?”

“Busy.” Souma turned to Sakura. “One Souma and one Kendappa. Please,” she added as Sakura hastily produced two twenty-ounce cups and started pouring coffee.

“Rough morning?” Touya asked, drifting closer.

“Hangover. Working in an hour. Goddamn lawyers.”

Touya winced. “Yeah, lawyers give me a headache, too.”

Sakura capped the coffees, wrote an S on Souma's, and set them on the countertop. “Anything for breakfast?”

Souma started to shake her head, seemed to reconsider, then said, “One of those ham and cheese half-sandwiches if you've got one. Need something to soak up the alcohol.”

Touya leaned forward, a glimmer of concern glinting behind his smirk. Sakura repressed a sigh as she bent down to retrieve a sandwich—made earlier this morning by Watanuki—from the display fridge. “Driving under the influence is a misdemeanor, you know,” Touya said. “If you need a ride—”

“Fuck off, Touya. I take the bus.” She passed a wad of one-dollar bills across the counter and downed several gulps of steaming-hot coffee. “Besides, you're not a traffic cop. You work in SCD.”

Touya stepped back, lifting his hands in a pacifying gesture. “Hey, I was just offering. And I'm still authorized to make DUI arrests.”

Souma snorted, taking her change as Sakura dropped it into her palm. “Thanks,” she said, lifting her coffee cup. “See you tomorrow.”

“Have a good rest of your day,” Sakura said, her customer-service smile coming easily despite her annoyance with her brother. She let it fall away as the door drifted shut behind Souma, then turned to Touya. “Was there anything else you needed?”

If he noticed the impatient note in her voice, he gave no indication. “Roast beef sandwich and a large dark roast for me. Yukito, you want your usual?”

“Yes, please. I'll pay.”

“No, I've got it. Mine's more expensive anyway.”

“There's really no need.”

“Touya can pay for it,” Sakura said brightly as she finished entering everything into the register. Her brother scowled, while a surprised smile darted across Yukito's face.

“Little monster,” Touya muttered.

“You offered.” She set everything on the counter. “That'll be fifteen twenty-six.”

“It's coming out of _your _allowance.”

She stuck her tongue out at him, accepting the twenty he gave her and handing back his change. As she did, the comm at Touya's shoulder crackled. “Unit twelve, this is Dispatch.”

Sakura frowned as Touya spoke into the receiver. “This is Touya. What's up?”

“We have a one-eight-seven-Adam.”

“That's the code for supernatural homicide,” Sakura whispered, ice creeping through her veins. From the edge of her vision, she saw Syaoran stiffen.

Touya's smirk flattened into a grim line. “Copy that. Address?”

“312 Viridian Avenue.”

“Understood. Our ETA is . . .” Touya glanced at the clock, eyebrows furrowing in concentration, “eleven-seventeen.”

“Copy that,” the dispatcher said. “Over and out.”

“Over and out,” Touya repeated. He glanced at Sakura, but his smile was strained. “Sorry, brat. Looks like I have to jet. Stay safe, and call if you see anyone suspicious.”

“Be careful,” she said, all pretense of humor vanishing.

Touya ruffled her hair, then inclined his head toward Yukito. “Let's go.”

Yukito gathered up their food, dropping a dollar in the tip jar. “Don't worry. I'll make sure he doesn't do anything reckless.”

Sakura nodded, throat too tight to speak. Carnelian hosted a significant supernatural population, in part because of the university. That had led to the local police department to form the SCD: the Supernatural Crimes Division. For crimes involving magic or other supernatural activity, even incidental activity, the police consulted with—and sometimes turned cases over to—the SCD.

“Are you all right?”

She jumped, then whirled around to face Syaoran. His eyebrows had drawn together with concern, and he had one hand half-extended in her direction, as if uncertain whether the reassurance would be welcome. Letting her head drop, she folded her hands around his. “Just worried,” she said, circling his knuckles with the pad of her thumb. “Murder is always awful, but . . .”

“But it's harder knowing someone you care about might put themselves at risk searching for the culprit,” Syaoran finished, squeezing her hand. After a moment, he relaxed his fingers and let go. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

_It's enough that you're here,_Sakura thought, shaking her head. “Touya might be annoying, but he's trained to deal with supernatural stuff, and he has Yukito. I'm sure whatever it is, they'll be able to handle it.”

“Right,” Syaoran said soberly.

Neither of them suggested the alternative: that Touya and Yukito might end up facing a threat they couldn't protect themselves from. Yukito might be a witch, but he was just as vulnerable to physical injury as any mundane, and Touya had no supernatural abilities of his own. However well they prepared, there was always a chance that something would go wrong, that she would lose her brother to violence, just as she'd lost her mother.

There wasn’t time to think about it. Seconds later, another handful of customers came in. Syaoran retreated to one of the tables out front, giving her space, and she spent the next twenty minutes tending to the first wave of the lunch crowd. Toward the end of the rush, a young bespectacled woman came in, casting her eyes about like she was looking for someone. “Hi, what can I get started for you?” Sakura asked, wincing a little as the phone in the kitchen began to ring. Oh, well. Kurogane would pick up if she didn’t.

“Actually, I’m looking for my boyfriend. Tall, blond, kind of a flirt.” The woman smiled. “He’s supposed to be moving in upstairs. I’m Maddy, by the way. Short for Madiha." 

“My name is Sakura. You must be looking for Fai.” She beckoned Madiha through the gap between the counter and the wall, then through the free-swinging door between the front of the cafe and the kitchen. “We’re not really supposed to let people through here—there’s another stairwell out back that leads up to the apartment—but it should be okay just this once. Oh!” She drew to a halt as Kurogane appeared at the bottom of the stairs, an irritated look on his face.

He glanced at her, then at Maddy. “Who’s this?”

“This is Fai’s girlfriend, Maddy.”

A strange look crossed Kurogane’s face, part discomfort and part prickly awkwardness. “He’s upstairs. I’ve got to get the phone.”

“Right.” Sakura stepped aside so he could pass, glancing again at Maddy. “The apartment's right through that door at the top of the steps.”

Madiha frowned, staring after Kurogane with a puzzled look on her face. “Sure. Okay. I’m just going to go on up, then.”

“Right. Have a nice day!”

She watched to make sure Madiha didn’t slip on her way up the stairs, then glanced again at Kurogane. He was still on the phone, tapping a pen against the notepad by the receiver. After a minute, he spoke. “Sure. Tell them to just go to the counter, and I’ll come down to meet them. Yeah. Thanks.” He set the phone back in its cradle.

“Do we have a big order coming in?” Sakura asked. That was the usual reason people called—that, and to try to sell them insurance.

Kurogane shook his head. “Electrician’s coming in later this week to figure out what’s up with the wiring. Should be here between nine and one on Thursday, so if they come in before your shift is over, just come get me. I’ll be around.”

“Yukito said it might be interference from the local spirits.”

“Could be.” Kurogane shrugged. “Lot of supernatural stuff can cause electrical issues. Hell, it could be that the wards are fraying, and the stray magic is burning out our light-bulbs. But that’s harder to deal with than a mundane problem, so let’s hope it’s something the electrician can fix.” He went over to the sink and grabbed a scrub-pad. “How was the morning? Any problems?”

“Nothing, really. It’s just . . .” She hesitated.

“Just what?”

“Touya and Yukito got called to a crime scene a few minutes after they came in. Supernatural murder.”

Kurogane paused in the middle of picking up a dirty mug, slanting a thoughtful look her way. “Any details?”

She shook her head. “Not yet.”

He grunted. “Dispatch would have said something if they thought they were sending your brother into danger. Whatever threat there was has probably already moved on.”

“I suppose.” She wrung the edges of her apron between her fingers. “I just worry, that’s all.”

“You want to head home for the day? I can watch the shop until the closing shift gets in.”

The offer caught her off-guard. “No, I—I’m all right. I already agreed to take an extra shift, so . . .”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure,” she said, instilling her voice with as much confidence as she could muster.

Kurogane regarded her a moment more, then tilted his chin toward the door. Taking the gesture for the cue it was, Sakura headed back out to the serving area. There was always plenty to be done, and rarely enough time to do it all. It was time she got back to work.

*

Fai carefully set down the cup of tea, directing a polite smile at the woman sitting across from him. His palms were sweaty and his mouth dry, despite the tea he’d just finished. The woman calmly sipped from her own cup, letting the silence drag out as she met his eyes with a serene gaze of her own. 

“Wizard Yuuko,” Fai finally said, half wishing he’d had the patience to wait for her to speak first. “I um… You called me yesterday about something important. Can you— I mean—” Fai's heart fluttered with nervous anticipation before he gathered the resolve to ask the question. “Have you found something that could help?”

“That is a complicated question,” Yuuko replied, and Fai felt as though the world had slipped from beneath his feet. “It depends on what you are willing to sacrifice.”

“Money shouldn’t be an issue.”

“You misunderstand me, my dear.” Yuuko set down the teacup and reclined on the sofa, exposing a scandalous amount of skin. “Money has never been an issue. You know as well as I that dark magic requires sacrifice.”

“The cure is_ dark_magic?” Fai felt his mouth grow dry. “But I thought—”

“You godfather is afflicted with an obscure curse,” Yuuko said, her gaze softening with something akin to pity, “the kind that cannot be broken with light magic. In order to free you godfather from this curse, a great sacrifice is required.”

“Anything,” Fai answered hurriedly, even though it felt as though an icy hand was squeezing his heart. “Whatever sacrifice is required to break the curse, I’m willing to pay the price.” _I promised Ashura I would do anything I could to help him._

“Once cast, the curse cannot be broken, only transferred.”

“Use me,” Fai declared without hesitation. 

Yuuko’s expression did not shift from that gentle pity. A low flame of fear burned in the pit of his stomach. _Something isn’t right._

“The curse can only be transferred to a mundane.” Yuuko shook her head, spilling long silken hair over her shoulder. “Neither you nor your brother are capable of taking on the curse. It has to be someone…” Yuuko trailed off, and Fai felt his heart stutter.

“Innocent? But… No, that’s not—” Waves of hot and cold rolled all over his body. “There has to be some other way. Maybe if you let me take a look, I could—”

“Access to the Dark Grimoires is closely monitored. I cannot help you with that,” Yuuko replied, voice still soft, as though she were afraid speaking that louder might break him. The world was crumbling to ashes around him. How she spoke wasn’t going to change a damned thing. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

“Can’t you make an exception, just this once?” Fai insisted, not willing to give up. “Maybe if I can take a look at the original curse, I can figure out a way to break it****.****” The wizard was still looking at him with that hatefully pitying gaze. Fai trailed off. When he spoke next, Fai could hear the waver in his voice. "Even if you wanted to, your oaths wouldn’t let you do what I ask."

"I truly am sorry," Yuuko told him. 

"Don't worry about it." Fai shook his head, giving her a rictus smile, fragile and barely held together. "At least I know that there __is __a possibility of a cure." _I'll find another way to save Ashura. Or modify this cure so that it doesn't _need _a mundane. _

"I wish you the best of luck." Yuuko returned his smile****,**** and Fai caught a whiff of incense. Had Yuuko just infused her words with magic? A vocal blessing. "May Hitsuzen lead you in the direction you desire."

Giving the wizard a respectful nod, Fai stood and turned away. The chimes above the door tinkled gently as he stepped out of the building and let the darkness of the night swallow him.


	3. Chapter Three

Kurogane was elbow-deep in dough when Fai came dancing down the stairs. “Good morning, Kuro-pyon!” As he breezed past, he reached up to tiptoe his fingertips across Kurogane's shoulder.

Kurogane growled. If his hands had been free, he'd have smacked the idiot over the back of his head, but Fai had an uncanny knack for guessing when his hands would be full, and had used that talent to avoid retaliation for a number of irritating behaviors. “I told you to use the exterior stairwell,” Kurogane snapped instead. “I can't have random people wandering through my kitchen while I'm working.”

“But it's _cold _outside,” Fai whined.

“It’s July. Almost August.”

“Is it?” Fai tilted his head in mock surprise. “Must have lost track. I suppose that means I'm due for another rent payment soon.”

“On the first, yeah.” The talk of rent money mollified Kurogane a little. The financial crunch he'd been under at the start of this month had eased up since Fai had paid his first month's rent and security deposit. The cafe still wasn't in _great _shape financially, but he had a little breathing room. Fai might be an idiot, but so long as he kept paying on time and didn't cause trouble with the customers, Kurogane could tolerate him. Barely.

“I'll be sure to have the money for you then.” Fai nodded cheerfully and strode through the door connecting the kitchen with the rest of the cafe.

Kurogane turned his attention back to the lump of dough on the counter, letting the soothing motions lull him into a meditative state. Kneading dough had been his usual way to relax ever since his mother had taken him aside after his first fistfight and shown him there were more productive ways of dealing with his anger. It hadn't stopped him from getting into fights later on, when the other kids had mocked him for having what they saw as a girly hobby, but it had dulled the jagged edges of his temper, given him an outlet. There were other things he could have chosen to do with his life besides run a cafe, things that didn’t come with the challenges of operating a small business, but he couldn’t deny the therapeutic aspects of the work. This part of the work, anyway.

Once he finished with the dough, he wrapped it up, dropped it into a broad metal bowl, and stuck it in the walk-in so it could chill before he worked it further. That done, he washed his hands and headed out into the service area. Syaoran and Watanuki were on today, Syaoran making drinks, Watanuki taking orders, and though both of them were moving swiftly to keep up with the morning rush, a line of people stretched all the way from the door to the counter.

He turned to Syaoran. “What do you need?”

The boy gestured vaguely to the blenders, his eyes sweeping over a row of receipts as he capped several lattes of varying sizes and flavors. Kurogane nodded and set to work pouring frappe mix into the each of the blenders and adding whatever little additions the orders called for.

Between the three of them, they hacked through the thicket of receipts with ruthless efficiency, and forty-five minutes later, they hit a brief lull which enabled them to clean up and replenish the coffee. “Busy morning?” Kurogane asked Watanuki, raising an eyebrow.

“Some big sale over at the boutique, apparently,” Watanuki said, nose wrinkling. “One of Tomoyo's assistants came by and bought all our sandwiches, too, so now I have to make another batch just to make it through the lunch rush, on top of all the other crap I still have to do.”He shook his head, dumping another batch of coffee beans into the grinder.

The door chime sounded just as Watanuki was about to turn on the machine. Kurogane saw frustration ripple across his face, followed by a brittle customer-service smile that said his tolerance for human interaction was at its end. Kurogane turned as well, then stilled as he saw Tomoyo walking up to the counter. 

“I've got this one,” he told Watanuki. “You go get done whatever you need to get done.”

Watanuki gave him a probing look but made no comment as Kurogane hustled over to the counter, inwardly cursing himself for appearing so interested.

Tomoyo brightened as she saw him. “Oh, Kurogane! I didn't know you were working this morning.”

Which meant that she knew that he wasn't _supposed _to be working, but damn him if he was going to act like an intruder in his own cafe. “Tomoyo,” he said gruffly. “Heard you were having a sale today.”

“Yes. Fifty percent off our summer collection. We need to clear out our stock so we can start displaying our fall fashions.”

“The summer's only half over,” he said, genuinely confused. Hell, he'd only had his summer drinks out for a month. Was he supposed to start advertising for autumn already? They didn’t even have any apple cider in yet.

Tomoyo let out a tinkling laugh. “Sorry,” she said, pressing her hand to her mouth to stifle the sound. “I suppose it's different for most businesses. But with the fashion industry, it's important to start displaying new seasonal garments early, to stay abreast of the current fashion. I mean, could you imagine if stores waited until November to start selling winter coats?” She shivered, as much with horror as with imagined cold.

“I guess,” he said awkwardly, wondering how horrified she'd be to hear he'd worn the same coat for the past three years. He hadn't noticed much of a change in men's clothing in that time, but he hadn't exactly been looking. Were men supposed to be fashionable? No one had said anything about it to him, but he'd been told most people found him intimidating, so it was possible everyone had been too afraid to say anything. Fuck. 

“It seems you've had a busy morning,” Tomoyo said, tilting her head toward the customer area.

“Yeah, I guess. Heard one of your assistants bought all our sandwiches.” The words sounded like an accusation, and damn it, this was _not _how this conversation was supposed to go. But before he could stumble his way back to something more courteous, Tomoyo laughed.

“Yes, I had Watanuki cut them into quarters so they could be served as finger-sandwiches to our customers. The vegetarian chipotle sandwiches were quite popular, by the way.”

Kurogane paused, several details falling together in his mind. “That's why it's been so busy today,” he said, and this time the note of accusation was intentional. “You've been directing all your customers here on their way out.”

Tomoyo waved dismissively. “Oh, I would never be so overt. Whenever they asked about the _hors d'oeuvres_,__ I simply told them where I'd bought them. Ah, I might have also purchased several plates of those little cakes you sell. I hope it's not too much of an inconvenience.”

“It's—no, that's fine." He hadn't noticed it until now, but the bakery case _did _look awfully depleted. Which was fine. Great, actually, because it meant they’d probably turn a decent profit for the day. But unexpected.

“And I have to thank your new barista for helping me carry all those boxes back to the boutique.”

_That _caught his attention. “New barista?”

Tomoyo hesitated, lips parting slightly. “Oh, I'd assumed—is he a baker's assistant, then? I thought he must be a barista because of how personable he seemed, but I might have been mistaken.”

“I haven't hired anyone new in months,” he said, suspicion crystallizing in the back of his mind. “This guy you're talking about—”

The door chimed. Kurogane glanced up reflexively, then scowled as Fai strolled through the entrance, carrying a stack of worn-looking books, one of which had a receipt sticking out of it. “You!” Kurogane said, stalking over to him.

Fai glanced up, his distracted expression melting into that too-bright smile he wore whenever someone confronted him. “Me?”

“Yes, _you_. __What are you doing, acting like some kind of pastry delivery guy?”

“Hmm?” Fai's eyes flickered to Tomoyo. “Oh. Well, she looked like she needed some help, and Syaoran and Watanuki were busy, and since she was just heading down the block, I thought I'd help her carry some boxes.”

“You could have let _me_ handle it.”

“But you were busy, too, making dough,” Fai said, sounding so perfectly reasonable it made Kurogane want to strangle him. “And besides, I was heading out anyway to pick up some books I'd ordered from that secondhand bookstore on Fifth Street.”

Kurogane ground his teeth, adding Fai's over-the-top friendliness to the list of things he was really starting to hate about him, right up there with the way he contorted Kurogane's name into those cutesy monstrosities he was so fond of.

Fai's smile softened slightly. “I really didn't mean to give the wrong impression,” he said to Tomoyo. “I don't work here. I'm just renting a room upstairs.”

“No, I shouldn't have assumed. But thanks again for your help.”

“Certainly.” Fai beamed, taking a step toward the doorway leading into the back, then halted mid-step, stiffening. “What's this?” he asked, plucking the newest issue of the Carnelian Herald from the rack by the pickup counter.

Kurogane glanced at the headline. “There was a murder a few nights ago, on Viridian Avenue. Police think it might have been a werewolf attack.”

“I see,” Fai said, his usual cheer seeping away, like rain into parched earth. “Do they have any suspects?” 

“Not yet,” Kurogane said, suspicion rippling through his mind. Sakura had mentioned it yesterday morning, worrying over her brother, but only now did it occur to him that _Fai _had come to town right around the same time as the murder had happened. It could have been a coincidence—hell, it probably _was _a coincidence, and his suspicion was rooted in his dislike for the idiot. But. “You got family in town or something?” 

“What?” Fai glanced at him, looking genuinely confused.

“You seem worried about the murder. Thought maybe you knew someone from around here and were worried.”

It was the most charitable reason for Fai's dismay, an excuse he could easily latch onto if he wanted to allay suspicion. It was also a trap. If he _did _know someone here, that raised other questions, like why he'd opted to share a stranger’s apartment instead of rooming with a friend or acquaintance. But Fai merely shook his head, his eyes remote. “No, not really. It's just . . . unsettling, I suppose. Murder is an ugly thing.” He set the newspaper back on its rack, then inclined his head toward Tomoyo. “Sorry again about the misunderstanding. It was nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Tomoyo cast a sunny smile at Fai, who returned it with a wave and smile of his own, and something hot and dark coiled in Kurogane’s stomach. It wasn’t jealousy, his brain insisted. He’d already known Fai was more personable than he was, more personable than anyone had a right to be, and aside from a bit of justified annoyance at Fai’s bubbly attitude, it didn’t bother him. But it was maybe a little irritating to realize his roommate had already won Tomoyo’s goodwill despite only having lived here a month. Not that Tomoyo had ever been anything but kind to him, but she was normally an excellent judge of character, and Fai was _clearly _an airhead, so—

“By the way, I brought you something,” Tomoyo said, dragging him from the darkening thunderclouds of his thoughts. She produced a palm-size white kitten made of some fuzzy-looking fabric, holding it out to him. “I thought it might look nice on the windowsill, near the door. I was actually thinking of Sakura when I picked it up, but since it doesn’t look like she’s here . . .”

Kurogane gingerly plucked the kitten from Tomoyo’s hand. The white fabric was felt, or something like it, but there was a pink silk ribbon arranged into a bow-tie around the kitten’s neck, and bits of thread around the feet drawn tight to give the paws definition. It was cute in the way most stuffed animals were cute, and well-made besides, not that he was much of a judge for that kind of thing. “I’ll show it to her next time she comes in,” he said, then added an awkward, “Thanks.”

Tomoyo beamed, stroking her index finger along the back of the stuffed kitten’s head. “Make sure someone gives her a name. Your customers will ask, and I know how bad you are at coming up with that sort of thing on the spot.” 

“Yeah, all right.” He rolled his eyes, tucking the kitten in the pocket of his apron. “You going to order something or not?”

“Just the usual.”

He nodded and poured her a large cup of green iced tea with a shot of peach, dropping in a lemon wedge before snapping the lid on. Tomoyo handed him a ten and told him to put the change in the tip jar, walking away before he could protest. At least it would be a nice bonus for the kids.

He helped Syaoran and Watanuki finish cleaning up the morning’s mess, then went back to the kitchen. The dough he’d set aside was chilled and ready to be portioned out and filled with jelly. He settled back into the work, thoughts drifting until the sound of the apartment door swinging open dragged him out of his reverie. Fai hustled down the stairs, phone in hand, a harried expression on his face. “What’s with you?” Kurogane asked.

Fai's head snapped up. “What? Oh. Nothing. Just, you know . . .” He held up the phone, as if it was sufficient evidence of . . . whatever he was trying to convince Kurogane of. “Got a call from the office,” he settled on at last. “There's a deadline coming up and the client wants some major changes done to the product. Plus a couple of resources quit recently, so things have been a bit hectic.”

“Sure,” Kurogane said, even as his mind said, _Liar. _The idiot didn't even have his laptop with him, just his phone and his keys.

Whatever. Not his business.

“Anyway, I’ve got to head in for a couple hours to help sort things out, so . . .” Fai edged toward the exit, eyeing him expectantly.

Kurogane scoffed. “Jeez, what are you, twelve? You don’t need my permission to leave the apartment.” Frankly, it would be nice to have him gone for a few hours, not that Kurogane was going to jeopardize next month’s rent payment by saying so.

“Right. Of course not.” Fai’s smile brightened until it was almost painful to look at. “Well, I’ll just be on my way then.” Without another word, he pushed his way through the door, not even bothering to pocket his phone as he stepped out into the harsh midday sun.

“Whatever,” Kurogane muttered, and went back to his baking.

*

Fai dropped the books on the table with a dull _thunk_, his heart thumping wildly beneath his chest. The newspaper headline flashed before his eyes, and he turned, pacing the length of the room before glancing at the cellphone lying innocently on his bedside table.

_It couldn't be Ashura..._ Fai turned and walked to his workstation. As he waited for the system to power on, he turned and paced back to the door. _No. He wouldn't do such a thing. He promised me he'd taken precautions._

The laptop chirped, displaying the login screen. Swiping his finger against the reader, he opened a browser and searched for the Carnelian Herald issue for that day. 

****Vicious Attack Leaves Man Dead on Viridian Avenue, ****the headline proclaimed. Fai scrolled through the article, too jittery to get more than a gist of it. The attack had happened in an alley off of Viridian Avenue, a quarter mile from the university. The victim had been discovered around midmorning by a student returning home from class. The SCD was investigating the matter, although according to a leaked report they suspected the murderer was a werewolf. And then Fai came across the photograph of the blood splatters attached to the article. His vision narrowed until the blood was all he could see—bloodied handprints smeared across the asphalt transforming into a pool of crimson soaking through the thick Persian carpet, into the wooden floorboards below—

He dragged a ragged breath through his teeth, jerking his attention from the photo. It wasn't the same. It _wasn't._

Slamming the laptop shut, Fai stumbled away from workstation. Nausea bubbled up his throat as he collapsed to his knees. 

No. No... Ashura _wouldn't._ He'd promised Fai, sworn the new precautions were working. This couldn't be Ashura. There was a sting at the back of Fai's throat, and a vice squeezing his lungs until he couldn't quite breathe. This wasn't Ashura's doing. 

_ But what if it was? _

Fai needed to know. He needed to be certain that Ashura wouldn't— that this wasn't—

He scrambled across the floor on all fours, nearly smashing the bedside table in his haste to grab his phone. With feverish fingers he unlocked the screen and brought up the call function, pressing down on the speed dial option. The call connected, ringing for nearly a minute before dropping. 

Fai bit his lip. Why wasn't Ashura picking up? He always picked up his phone by the second ring. Fai tried again only for the call to drop after a minute. The next three attempts yielded the same result. 

_Something's wrong. I need to go see him_. __

He hurried out the door, remembering to grab his car keys at the last minute. He ran down the stairs, screeching to a halt when he spotted Kurogane in the kitchen with a bowl of dough and some jam set up in front of him. Upon hearing Fai's approach, the man looked up and frowned. 

“What’s with you?” he asked.

“What? Oh. Nothing. Just, you know . . .” Fai held up the phone, struggling to come up with a plausible explanation. What if his actions made Kurogane suspicious? He needed to— “Got a call from the office,” Fai said as inspiration struck. “There's a deadline coming up and the client wants some major changes done to the product. Plus a couple of resources quit recently, so things have been a bit hectic.” 

“Sure." Kurogane shrugged, but his eyes remained narrowed.

Fai edged his way toward the exit.“Anyway, I’ve got to head in for a couple hours to help sort things out, so…” He trailed off, giving Kurogane an expectant look.

Kurogane scoffed. “Jeez, what are you, twelve? You don’t need my permission to leave the apartment.”

“Right. Of course not.” Fai grinned. “Well, I’ll just be on my way then.” 

And with that, Fai dashed out the door. He slid behind the wheel of his Porsche Boxster and pulled out onto the main street. As soon as he cleared the city, he floored the gas, driving well above the legal limits. And so he managed to cover a distance that normally took two hours in only an hour and twenty minutes. Screeching to a halt in front of Ashura’s office, he hopped out of the car and dashed inside. He jammed his thumb on the button to call the lift, shifting his weight from one foot to the other before deciding that it was taking too long for his liking. He turned and sprinted up the stairs, all the way to the ninth floor.

Ashura’s receptionist jumped in surprise as Fai entered the office. “Mr. Fluorite, good— ahem. Good afternoon. I didn’t know you were coming today.”

“Last minute plan, Chrissy. Is Ashura in?”

“Yes, but he—”

“Great! I’ll see myself in.” Fai quickly slid past her desk, turning so that he was walking backwards and still looking at the receptionist. “Did you get a new haircut? It looks lovely on you.”

Chrissy blushed as she adjusted a stray curl. “I uh… Yes. Thank you, Mr. Fluorite.”

“Always a pleasure, Chrissy.” With that, he turned and wrenched open the door to Ashura’s office, dashing inside.

“Fai!” Ashura looked up from where he had been sorting through a host of folders on his desk. “This is a surprise. You didn't tell me you were coming.”

Now that he was here, face to face with his godfather, Fai suddenly realized he had no idea how to say "I think you might have accidentally murdered someone in my new city, so I came to confirm that I was wrong."

“You, uh… you weren’t picking up your phone.”

“Wasn’t picking up my…” Ashura trailed off as he dug through the folders to find his phone. He switched it on and frowned. “Fifteen missed calls? Fai, is everything all right? You didn’t—”

“Me? No. No. I’m fine. I’m great actually. I was just…” Suddenly feeling completely drained, Fai slumped onto the leather couch. “I thought—” He broke off as he sank into the cushions and rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands.

Fai felt the cushions dip next to him. Ashura rested a hand on his shoulder, waiting until Fai was looking at him before speaking. “What’s wrong, Fai?”

“I don’t know… You weren’t picking up your phone, and I—” Fai tugged at his hair in frustration. A single headline had sent him flying into a panic. The murderer could have been _anyone_. And Fai had come all this way to accuse Ashura.

“I was in a meeting with my lawyers.”

That explanation did nothing to ease Fai’s worries. “Why?”

Ashura looked away almost guiltily before seeming to reach some sort of decision. “I was having them update my will, going over the five-year plans for a couple of charities, and the—”

Fear dug its claws into Fai’s chest as he listened to Ashura outline everything that he had accomplished in that meeting with his lawyers. “Ashura, you don’t have to do this.”

A faint hint of vanilla wafted through the air; Ashura had activated the privacy wards for his office. “You _know _why I must.”

“No! There’s still time. You put all those safety measures in place. You told me they were working. You told me_ everything was fine._” Fai couldn’t keep the accusing note out of his voice.

“Everything _was _fine these past couple of months,” Ashura agreed. “But it happened again this last full moon, Fai. I woke up covered in blood and I had no idea where I’d gone. I can’t recall anything, and the security cameras glitched again. It’s like the curse shorts them out while I’m transformed!”

“No…”

“Fai, I hate having to ask this of you, but—”

“No!” Fai stood up and whirled on Ashura. “I’m not killing you, Ashura. You can’t make me.”

“I know I can’t make you do it, Fai,” Ashura admitted, serenely, as though discussing his intention to die at Fai’s hand was an everyday occurrence. Which was almost true. “Which is why I’m _asking _you to.”

Fai let out a hysterical laugh as he turned and started pacing across Ashura’s office. “It’s the same thing.”

“This isn’t easy for me, either. You have to know that.” Ashura sighed. “I don’t _want _to die, but this curse… It’s growing worse each day.”

“There’s still time.”

“I woke up covered in blood, Fai,” Ashura repeated as he looked down at his hands. “That means I’ve killed someone else. And I don’t remember _anything_. We trueborn are different from converts. We’ve always had a connection to our wolf side. Transforming during the full moon for us is like a shift in perspective rather than a shift in our state of mind. We retain our ability to think like a normal human being, and the bloodlust is negligible. Ever since the curse took hold, I’ve been losing that connection, that part of myself. I’m experiencing the bloodlust of a new convert, only it’s a dozen times worse. I've killed _two _innocent people. And then there’s what happened to—”

Fai cut him off. “I don’t want to talk about that. In fact, I don’t want to talk about any of this. I’m _not_ going to kill you, and you are not turning yourself in to the SCD. I’m working on a cure for you. I’m _this _close to figuring it out.” Fai held up his thumb and forefinger a hairsbreadth apart. “If you’re so worried about something like this happening again, I can have Madiha spell some restraints. I have an idea for what could work so you don’t have to worry about them failing.”

“You’ve told her about the curse?” Ashura’s brows shot up.

“She’s helping me with the research. Don’t worry. She doesn’t know about the accidents.”

“She’s almost ready to take the Mage Exam, isn’t she?”

“Yeah.” Fai smiled and came to sit beside Ashura. “If she can clear it on her first attempt, she'll be the seventh witch in history to do so in less than three years time.” Of course, the Wizard Yuuko had done so in just a year and a half, but she was on an entirely different level as far as practitioners went. For the average practitioner, it took four to five years of study to qualify for the title of mage, and another seven to nine years to qualify for the title of wizard. Yuuko had done so in four.

“Does she even have the time to help with your research?”

“I’m doing most of the work for the curse. She’s only helping with the spell-casting aspects, considering I can’t do that myself.”

“Fai, I’m—”

“So anyway—” Fai cut off what he knew was going to be another apology— “now that that’s settled, you don’t have to worry about updating your will or anything. We’ll have you cured like this.” Fai snapped his fingers. “And in the meantime, I can have a new set of restraints for you in a couple of days.”

“Very well, Fai.” Ashura shook his head, though a hint of a smile lingered on his lips. “I can see I’m not going to win this round. By the way, Yuui called the other day. He said you’ve been ignoring him since you moved out of the city.”

The guilt that Fai had been suppressing for the past few weeks flared into a burning coal in his chest. Fai looked away from Ashura’s gentle gaze. “I need some time to figure things out.”

“So you haven’t told him about the—”

“I really don’t want to talk about it, Ashura.”

“All right,” Ashura agreed so readily Fai stared at him in astonishment. “But I do hope whatever it is that you need to figure out, you can do so before his Wizard Examin the fall.”

Something rotten coiled in his gut. Yuui was planning to take his Wizard Exam already? It had only been five years and he was already— Fai squashed the feeling of jealousy that burned in his chest. He was happy that his brother had magic, damn it! Yuui was lucky. “So I guess he'll be a wizard before the start of next year.”

Fai smiled, but Ashura must have noticed the brittleness of it, for he patted Fai on the shoulder. “He hopes to see you at the ceremony.”

"Of course. I wouldn't miss it even if..." Even if Fai could never tell Yuui _why _he'd stopped calling.

"Oh, Fai," Ashura started to say, his voice full of pity and regret, which wasn't something that Fai needed or _wanted _to hear. So he stood up and gave Ashura another plastic smile.

"I just remembered that I'd made plans for dinner with Maddy. I think I'd better head out, or else I'll miss our date tonight. I'll call and let you know about the chains when they're ready, all right?"

And then, without waiting for a response, Fai disappeared out the door, letting it swing shut behind him.


	4. Chapter Four

Fai trudged down the stairs, his pace at odds with the urgent stride with which he’d raced up them an hour ago. Meeting with Ashura had done little to alleviate his fears. Though Ashura might not know for certain, there was a significant chance he'd been the one to kill that man on Viridian Avenue. That his godfather had returned home covered in blood yet unseen by anyone else only made Fai’s worry grow.

Fai stepped out into the late afternoon sun and climbed into his car. Switching on the ignition, he drove out onto the main street and joined the flow of traffic, still preoccupied with Ashura’s curse. It stank of death and decay, and it had turned a trueborn into nothing more than a rabid animal. And now Fai found out that it could compel the person afflicted by it to conceal their movements? The curse was designed to induce chaos while maximizing death and destruction.

Fai was afraid to even consider how it would progress because all his research pointed to one thing: it _would _get worse. And on some level, Ashura had to know that. Why else would he behave as though he didn’t have long to live? It didn’t matter, though. Fai was going to find him a cure. Anything else was unacceptable. So instead of panicking over the fact that the curse had begun to decay the containment wards around Ashura’s property, Fai turned his thoughts to the books he’d purchased from the secondhand bookshop earlier. It was good luck on Fai’s part that the store had been able to acquire those volumes for him. Granted, Fai had had to pay an exorbitant amount for the ancient and controversial tomes on dark rituals and blood magic. Based on the hints Yuuko had dropped about the nature of the curse, Fai was certain the answer to breaking it lay in that direction.

As soon as he got back, Fai would begin his research—after he called Maddy to ask her to spell a new set of restraints for Ashura. Maybe he could lend her some of his expertise on creating the runic chains that would make them more robust? So long as they held this upcoming full moon, Fai was certain they could provide Ashura with new restraints every month until Fai found the cure. The thought of having to kill his godfather, the man who had been more of a father to him and Yuui than their biologicalfather . . . Fai refused to even consider it. What was done was done.

_I am_ not _going to kill him. That's probably what the person who cursed him wants anyway. _

Fai frowned, driving on autopilot as he considered what little he and Maddy had managed to piece together about the one behind it all. It had to be someone powerful, someone who had a lot to gain by getting Ashura out of the way. A business rival? There were quicker ways to get rid of competition, so it didn't make much sense. Someone who didn't like the philanthropic side to Ashura's work, perhaps? Then again, the same logic applied as with a business rival. Why drag it out? A curse this dark felt more... personal. 

"Maybe they've done it as revenge?" Madiha had suggested, but Fai couldn't think of anyone who could hate his godfather to such an extent. Ashura worked so hard to make the world a better place for mundanes and the supernaturals alike. Fai had asked him about possible enemies on more than one occasion, but Ashura hadn't been able to think of anyone. Given the nature of the curse, the perpetrator was either a dark practitioner themselves, or they'd gotten a warlock to cast the curse for them. But who could it—

Fai's musings crashed to a halt as he recognized the street he was driving down. The rows of picturesque two-story cottages lining the road on either side of him were just as familiar as they'd been to him a year ago. The trees poking up from the perfectly manicured lawns had gained a coat of lush green leaves, a stark contrast to the snow-coated branches he'd seen the last time he'd been here. He slowed the car to a crawl as he spotted the redbrick cottage with its dark green shingles. A blue 1969 Corvette was parked in the driveway: Yuui's car. Fai pulled to a stop four houses down the road, far enough that he wouldn’t be immediately seen through the trees but close enough that he could walk to the door if he wanted to. 

Yuui was home. His brother was only a short walk away. 

_You should talk to Yuui. He’s worried about you, _Ashura had said right before Fai had left. No wonder his subconscious had directed him this way. Because Fai missed him too. Those first few months after the incident, Fai had pulled away, too ashamed of how much of a mess he was to face his brother. Every time Yuui had tried to come see him, Fai had pretended to not be home, ruthlessly crushing the pangs of guilt he felt at doing so. It was for Yuui’s own good, Fai always told himself, as he ignored Yuui’s calls and his emails, as he refused every attempt Yuui made to contact him, as he rented out his apartment and moved to an entirely new city.

He wasn’t even aware of climbing out his car, but suddenly he found himself standing right outside Yuui’s door, his hand halfway to the doorbell. Fai froze, heart in his throat as he stared at the innocent button as though it might grow teeth. 

_I thought you wanted to protect Yuui,_ growled a sinister voice inside his head. _Are you really so selfish that you would drag him into your mess, all because you miss him? Do you hate him so much that you can’t even let him live his life in peace?_

_No._ Fai stumbled back and tripped over his own feet. He went down with a surprised yelp, hitting his head on one of the terracotta pots placed next to the walkway. Stars burst across his vision and his eyes watered as he struggled upright. When he pressed his hand against his head, his fingers came away wet with blood.

“What was that?” came Yuui’s muffled voice from inside.

Fai felt the breath leave his lungs. _He can’t see me here! _

Ignoring the sense of vertigo, Fai drunkenly staggered around the pots and hid behind the chest-high hedgerow that grew around the lawn.

“I’m not sure. It sounded like it came from outside,” Masooma replied, her voice sounding a little closer than Yuui’s. “Want me to check?” 

“It’s okay, you just got home. Stay off your feet. I’ll go see,” Yuui said, as he drew nearer. Irrationally afraid that Yuui might somehow hear him from the other side of the hedge, Fai held his breath.

Masooma huffed, a hint of fondness and exasperation in the sound. "Honestly, Yuui, it's not like I haven't pulled a double shift before. But thank you for being such a caring dork." 

"Aw, I love you too," Yuui called back, his voice coming from much closer now. Fai's heart lurched at the teasing lilt to his brother's voice. He risked a peek above the shrubs just as the lock clicked open and the door swung inwards. He caught a glimpse of Yuui in the doorway, looking over his shoulder, a fond smile on his lips. Fai ducked down before Yuui could glance his way.

_ Look at how happy he is. You'll only bring him to ruin by dropping back in his life. _

“Is anyone there?” 

Fai bit the inside of his cheek and dug his nails into his palms to keep from answering. He needed to keep Yuui _safe, _not drag him into the ongoing disaster his life had become. 

Half a minute later, the door clicked shut. Fai sank to the ground, uncaring of the wet grass that would no doubt stain his jeans. 

“Who was it?” Masooma asked.

“For a minute there, I almost thought it might’ve been— never mind. I didn’t see anyone outside.”

“You thought it was Fai?” 

“I— Yeah. I just—I don’t know what happened. I mean I used to at least get a reply from him every couple of days, but ever since he’s moved cities…” Yuui sighed. “Ashura keeps telling me I need to give him time, but I don’t even know what for.”

Head buried between his drawn up knees, Fai struggled to breathe. Yuui was right there, on the other side of the door. He should go talk to him. He should just go and ring the bell. Yuui would open the door, and Fai would fall on his knees and beg forgiveness for giving him so much grief. And then Fai could explain everything that had happened and why he’d done what he’d done. Maybe with Yuui involved, he could actually find some answers. 

_ You just want Yuui to end up like you: ruined. _

Fai shot to his feet, tearing down the street to where he had parked his car. The tires screeched on asphalt as Fai swung his car around and floored the gas.

_ You’re jealous of him, aren’t you? _

Grinding his teeth, Fai switched on the music player and turned the volume all the way up, hoping to drown out the voice whispering inside his head. He didn’t slow down until he was well out of city limits.

_ You wish that was you, taking the Mage Exam this fall. You wish he was in your place. _

Clenching his jaw against the stinging in his eyes and the lump at the back of his throat, Fai drove all the way back to Carnelian, losing the fight against his emotions two blocks away from the cafe. Pulling to a stop across the street from an abandoned apartment complex, Fai killed the engine. 

For a moment, he just sat there in the sudden silence, his fingers digging into the steering wheel as he stared unseeingly at the golden strips of sunlight cast on the asphalt. The world glowed orange with the setting sun, but already, a hint of the waxing moon peeked out from behind the abandoned building. Fai gritted his teeth, ears ringing. He wanted to break something, hurt someone. A hazy film covered his vision, blurring out the world. He slammed his hands against the steering wheel. 

“Damn it. Damn it! _Damn it!”_ With every word, Fai struck the wheel again. The car rocked with every blow and suddenly he was breathing in an achingly familiar blend of vanilla and cool, crisp snow—the scent of magic, perceptible now as the protective wards they'd layered together over his car activated.The scent was so unexpected that Fai froze, his eyes widening as he drew in a ragged gasp. And then another, salt stinging at the back of his throat, and it was as though every emotion that he'd been holding at bay suddenly burst past the dam. What kind of brother was he that he couldn’t even be happy for Yuui instead of wishing that it had been Yuui and not him there that night? His vision blurred as tears gathered and spilled down his cheeks. Fai deserved to have his life turned upside down for being so selfish. He let his head hit the steering wheel as loud, messy sobs shook his frame.

Night had fallen around him by the time his crying petered off into wet sniffles. His mouth felt oddly dry, and a sense of lightheadedness assaulted him as he leaned back against the headrest. His forehead prickled where it had been resting against the steering wheel, hot and cold and numb all at once. Fai scrubbed at his face, hoping his eyes wouldn’t be too puffy by the time he returned to the café. He pulled on the rear-view mirror to check and nearly jumped out of his skin when something let out a quiet _mrow_ to his left.

With only the light from a solitary streetlight ten feet away, Fai squinted into the shadows and frowned at shifting patch of whiteness on the passenger seat. “Huh?”

Something warm and fuzzy brushed against the hand still resting on the steering wheel. Fai turned back fast enough to give himself whiplash. A black cat with a patch of white fur on its forehead sat on the dashboard, watching him with glowing amber eyes as its tail swished from side to side. “Wha— Where did you come from, little guy?” Fai glanced to the window and noticed for the first time that it was rolled down. The cat must have sneaked in through the gap, but when had Fai opened it?

Another _mrow _rose from the passenger seat as a white cat with a black spot on its forehead hopped onto the dashboard next to its mirrored twin. Their tails moved in an eerie synchronization as they tilted their heads at Fai.

Hesitantly Fai reached for the cats, half-afraid they would dart away before he could reach them. He was pleasantly surprised when they allowed him to scratch them behind their ears, purring contentedly. It was strange—ever since the incident, every cat he'd come across had either fled from him or hissed in displeasure. But Fai quashed his confusion and let himself enjoy the moment while it lasted.

“Are you guys looking for a home?” he asked after a while. The black cat cracked open an eye to look at Fai before licking at its forepaw. The white one gave a languid stretch and daintily hopped off the dashboard to curl up in Fai's lap. Seeing this, the black one gave another meow before impatiently shoving its head under Fai’s hand, demanding more scratches. 

“Well I’ve got plenty of room and I’m pretty sure Kuro-puu wouldn’t mind having beauties like you around.” The black one continued to purr as it nuzzled Fai’s hand and he decided to take it as a positive sign. “I don’t have proper beds for you but I’m sure we can work something out if you guys wanted to come with me.”

Twin _meows_ of approval greeted his words, and Fai grinned. 

“I guess we should head home, then.”  


*

Kurogane tapped the end of his pen against the order form, mentally checking his calculations: $1,841 for Thursday’s delivery, plus the weekly service fee for the laundry service for their rags and the monthly rent payment for the building, for a total of $2,981 before labor costs. Not bad, as expenses went. He’d always been frugal—Yuuko would have called it stingy—but he’d gotten especially good at trimming back on costs these past couple years. Profit margins were slim when it came to cafes, especially when you factored in the undeniable reality that you’d lose a chunk of that revenue to food waste, but they were doing okay. Better than they’d been for a while, now that he had a renter for the apartment. He didn’t _want _to credit Fai for keeping them afloat when his own attention to detail was what kept costs down in the first place, but he couldn’t deny that it helped.

Maybe in another month or two, he’d be able to afford another employee. Or maybe he’d end up spending whatever he squirreled away on maintenance costs or repairs. Hopefully the electrician coming in tomorrow would be able to fix whatever the hell was going on with his light bulbs.

He filled in the last few lines of the order form and headed to his bedroom/office to fax it to the delivery company. The ancient printer clattered to life as he typed in the settings and fed the page through the machine. As he waited for confirmation that the fax had sent, his eyes snagged on the stuffed kitten perched on the corner of his desk, where it had sat since Tomoyo had given it to him this morning.

_She meant for Sakura to have it, not you_, __his brain reminded him. The thought had a bitter edge to it. Not that he had any reason to be bitter over such a useless, cutesy thing. It wasn’t anything he would have wanted to begin with, and it suited Sakura better anyway. But a small, selfish part of him wanted to hold onto it anyway.

Stupid of him. Stupid and sentimental. He picked up the cat, waited for the printer to flash the confirmation notice, and strode down the hall. He’d go give it to Sakura now, remove the temptation to keep it for himself. But as he emerged from the hallway, the apartment’s exterior door swung open, and Fai strolled in, tapping away at his phone. When he saw Kurogane standing in the middle of the living room, he halted, a startled look flitting across his face. “Kuro-pyon! You’re here!”

“You know I live here, right?”

“Of course, of course.” Fai’s eyebrows twitched, his smile cycling through several different iterations, like the part of his brain that moderated his expression couldn’t decode whatever underlying emotions he was hiding behind his cheery mask. It was weirdly uncomfortable to watch, like seeing someone about to break into tears, but before Kurogane could say anything, Fai went on. “It’s just that you spend so much time in the cafe, I’m surprised to see you up here. I’d have thought you’d be kneading dough or mixing batter or something.”

“I’ve got a few trays of muffins in the oven,” Kurogane said, still off-balance. “Watanuki’s keeping an eye on them.”

“How nice,” Fai said, flicking a glance down the hall. Kurogane frowned, peering closer as he caught a glimpse of darker red beneath the silky sweep of Fai’s hair. “Maybe I’ll pick up something from the cafe on my way out. Can you believe that I was out all day and forgot to stop by the grocery store? Honestly, I don’t know what’s wrong with—”

“Are you bleeding?”

Fai blinked. “What?”

Kurogane stepped forward, catching a length of blond hair between his fingers and lifting it away to reveal a crust of drying blood just above Fai’s left temple. Fai danced out of the grip, a wary look in his eyes. Kurogane scowled. “What happened? Did someone try to hit you over the head on your way back, or what?”

“No, nothing like that.” Fai scratched absently at the patch of dried blood. “I, uh, walked into a flowerpot.”

Kurogane stared at him. “You walked into a flowerpot. Head first. Hard enough to give yourself a head wound.”

“It’s true!” Fai insisted. “I wanted to pick up some roses for my girlfriend for a date, but then she called and said she had to cancel, and while I was distracted I walked into one of those hanging flowerpots, and it sort of . . . cracked, I guess? So I got a little cut.”

“And you didn’t stop to bandage it or wash the blood off?”

“I was in a hurry! I had an appointment. Why do you even care?” Fai demanded, a defensive edge to his voice.

Kurogane narrowed his eyes. Everything Fai had said could easily be true, and it wasn’t like Kurogane had any responsibility to look out for him, so he couldn’t claim it _mattered._ But something about the story felt false. 

_What the fuck is your deal?_ he wondered as Fai glared up at him, shoulders hunched like he was about to throw a punch. And that was another thing: Fai’s body language was all over the place, cheerful one second, borderline hostile the next. Kurogane had seen people swing between extremes—hell, he could go from zero to pissed in half a second—but usually it took more than a few nosy comments to inspire such an abrupt change in demeanor.

_Maybe he’s bipolar, _he thought. _Or certifiable. That's definitely an option._

A twinge of guilt followed the thought. Everybody had their issues. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d stepped on somebody’s toes without meaning to. Maybe something he’d said had struck a nerve. He stepped back, lifting his hands in a placating gesture. “Look, you don’t have to make excuses or whatever. I don’t really care what happened. But at least let me take a look at your head, make sure you didn’t give yourself a concussion or something.”

Fai shot him a mistrustful glance, but the tension in his shoulders eased a little as he straightened. “Sorry. Bad day. I can take care of it. It really was just a scratch.” He brushed past Kurogane, his slender frame slipping easily through the narrow gap between the sofa and Kurogane's shoulder, and made his way to the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Kurogane sighed and headed down to the cafe where Sakura and Watanuki were busily brewing coffee and setting out rows of pistachio muffins. He waited for a lull in their work, then went over to Sakura, holding out the stuffed kitten he’d been carrying. “Hey, uh, Tomoyo said this was for you.”

Sakura blinked in surprise and plucked the kitten from his hand. “It’s so cute! Tomoyo is always so thoughtful.”

“Yeah, she really is,” Kurogane murmured, tucking his hands in his pockets. “Anyway, she said you should give it a name and put in the window or something. Might make a good mascot for the cafe.”

Sakura’s smile brightened. “That’s a great idea. I’ll be sure to come up with a good name for her.” She stroked her thumb down the back of the kitten’s head, then placed it gingerly next to the tip jar so it would be facing the front of the store.

“Sure. Need any help before I head upstairs for the night?”

She shook her head. “Watanuki and I can handle it. We’re keeping up pretty well.”

“All right. Just bang on the door if anything comes up.” It wouldn’t, he knew. Sakura could handle any customer issues, and Watanuki would make sure everything got locked up before they went home. But it helped to remind them that they could come to him if something went wrong, even if they’d do everything they could to leave him be. They were good kids. He wanted to be there for them whenever he could.

“We will,” Sakura promised, already moving on to her next task.

Kurogane left her to it and headed back upstairs. It was almost eight, late enough to turn the sun into a fading memory at the edge of the horizon. He ought to be in bed already—he’d need to be back in the kitchen by three to prep if he wanted to have everything ready for tomorrow’s opening—but it had been so long since he’d gotten a solid eight hours that he doubted his body would grant him a full night’s sleep even if he did somehow find the time for it.

Fai passed him on his way out of the bathroom, a clean pad of gauze taped to his forehead. He offered Kurogane a strained smile before slipping out through the interior door, once again ignoring Kurogane’s edict to _not _pass through the kitchen on his way out. Annoyance pulsed through Kurogane’s chest—kitchens were dangerous if you didn’t know how to move through them, and given that the idiot had apparently walked into a _flower pot_, __it seemed especially unwise to let him wander through a room full of knives and cooking appliances.

But getting pissy over Fai’s casual disregard of his boundaries had accomplished nothing except give him a headache, and he was too tired for another confrontation tonight. Instead, he took a few minutes to brush his teeth and wash the flecks of flour from his face and arms, then headed to his room. He had to navigate around the several pieces of mismatched furniture and baskets of unfolded laundry to get to his bed, but once he was there, all he had to do was strip off his work clothes and set his alarm.

Sleep took him the moment he laid down, and exhaustion dragged him into the abyss of unconsciousness, where even the nightmares couldn’t reach him.

*

Watanuki knotted the top of the trash bag and hoisted it up, a whine rising in the back of his throat as he saw the puddle of sludge at the bottom of the bin. “Great,” he muttered, cradling the leaky bag so it wouldn’t burst halfway to the big bin.

“Something wrong?” Sakura asked as she wiped down the bakery case with a tattered blue rag.

“Stupid liner’s torn; it’s leaking all over.” _And leaving a trail with every step, _he thought, grimly making his way through the swinging door, toward the back of the kitchen. _Might as well add mopping to the list of things I’m going to have to redo before the night is done. _He deposited the dripping sack into the big plastic drum by the door. It was almost full; he’d have to roll it out to the dumpster before they closed for the night.

_Twenty more minutes, _he thought, steeling himself before heading back to the prep area to retrieve the sludge-damp bin. As he did, a second set of footfalls followed, light enough that they might as well have been echoes of his own steps. He cast a surly glance over his shoulder, ready to tell whatever ghost had wandered through that if they wanted coffee they’d have to come through the front like everybody else, but it was only Fai, tiptoeing down the stairs. He had a bandage on his head, half-hidden behind his hair, and he was tapping away at his phone.

“You know you’re not supposed to be back here,” Watanuki said—a familiar refrain in the three weeks since Fai had moved in. “The kitchen is for employees only.”

“Oh, I’m sure Kuro-rin won’t mind.”

Watanuki was pretty sure Kurogane _did _mind—that he had specifically and repeatedly told Fai to use the stairs out back when going to and from the apartment—but Fai breezed past him before he could point that out. “Evening, Sakura-chan! How goes the coffee-making?”

“It’s winding down for the night,” Sakura said with unflagging cheer. “I've still got a quarter pot of medium roast if you’re looking for coffee.”

Fai made his way around to the customer side of the counter, tapping a finger against his chin. “I was hoping for something sweeter. I could use a pick-me-up. Maybe a frappe? You can make those without coffee, right?”

“Certainly! What flavor?”

Watanuki tuned them out, picking up the garbage bin and carrying it to the slop sink in back so he could rinse it out. By the time he returned to the front—bin clean, fresh trashcan liner applied, hands washed—Sakura was standing in front of the blender, pouring a generous amount of orange smoothie mix atop a layer of heavy cream. He frowned. “What are you making?”

“Well, Fai asked if we could make an orange-and-chocolate frappe, but I told him our orange syrup is pretty weak, so we decided we’d try with the smoothie mix instead.” She set the blender jar beneath the frappe powder dispenser and cranked the wheel five clicks. “It sounded good, so I’m making enough for all three of us to try.”

Watanuki wrinkled his nose. Sure, it _sounded _good, but he could already tell it was going to be a pain in the ass to make, especially in the morning when they were actually busy. He kept his mouth shut, though. Fai seemed nice enough, but he was still a customer. Better to keep him happy than risk a quarrel about the service. “Right. I’m going to go take out the trash. Will you be okay here for a few minutes?”

Sakura dumped a cup of ice into the blender and set it in its cradle. “Sure thing! See you when you get back.”

He collected the last two bags of trash from the customer area and threw them into the big bin, the whir of the blender a distant hum behind him. From there, he hauled the bin outside, down the sidewalk and into the disused parking lot behind the cafe. The night air was sticky with humidity and laced with the scent of fresh-baked bread and stale coffee grounds. It was a pleasant aroma, which was good because he was pretty sure the smell had seeped into every surface within twenty feet of the cafe, even the bricks, which should have been impervious to such things. 

The dumpster at the edge of the parking lot was less fragrant—the problem with sharing a dumpster with the rest of the block—but not as awful than it could have been. He rolled the bin over to the edge and started throwing bags in two at a time, glad most of them were filled with wrappers and plastic instead of basketball-sized wads of damp coffee grounds.

Tossing the last few bags into the dumpster, he turned and began wheeling the now-empty bin back toward the cafe, then halted as something _clinked _behind him.

_It’s probably nothing, _he told himself, glancing over his shoulder. The dumpster loomed by the edge of the parking lot, a broad rectangular shadow hemmed in by the brick walls of the surrounding buildings. He stared at it for a moment, the back of his neck prickling with premonition. "Hello?" 

Nothing shifted. All was silent. All was still.

“You’re being paranoid,” he muttered to himself. He made to start pushing the bin again, only to freeze as something very distinctly scraped against the sidewalk behind him. He spun, heart hammering in his chest. “Wh-who’s there? Doumeki, is that you? Because if it is, I swear to—_aiy!_” he yelped as something darted out from underneath the dumpster. He jumped as it shot past his ankle, grabbing onto the bin as if that was going to do him any good against whatever was about to _eat _him—

—then let out a relieved breath when the creature halted beneath a street lamp and revealed itself to be a lean black cat with a patch of white fur on its forehead. Watanuki sagged against the trash bin, his heart rate slowly coming down as the cat stared up at him with curious amber eyes. “Okay. Okay. That was terrifying, but okay.” Carefully, still shaking a little, he crouched down and extended a hand toward the cat. “Hey, kitty-kitty. What were you doing under there? You’d better not be getting ready to give birth. A dumpster is no place for a bunch of kittens.”

The cat gave a curious _mrow _and flicked its tail. A moment later, a second cat emerged from the shadows, just as lean and graceful, but with misty white fur and a black spot on its forehead.

“Huh," Watanuki said. "Matching set.” That was . . . weird. _Supernaturally weird? _he wondered, glancing around to see if anyone else had noticed the cats. It didn’t help. There was no one else out here. “I hope you’re not the ones making the light bulbs go out. My boss gets cranky when he has to replace them. If he finds out it was the two of you, he’ll chase you off with a broom.”

The white cat tilted its head to the side. The black cat yawned and gave a languid stretch.

“Right. I’m going to go inside and get you guys some water. Don’t go anywhere, okay?” He still couldn't tell whether they were spirits or not, but offering them water would at least earn him a little goodwill if they were. He finished rolling the garbage bin inside and retrieved a couple bowls from the dish rack, filling one with water and the other with scraps of meat from a sandwich he found in the discard basket. 

The cats were still out there when he stepped outside, tails swishing with feline impatience. He placed the bowls on the sidewalk by the door, then retreated a few steps to give them room. They strode over to the bowls without the slightest hesitation, their movements strangely coordinated, as if they knew they were a reverse mirror of each other and were purposefully moving in sync.

_Definitely weird_. __He went back inside, closing the door behind him and heading over to the sink to wash his hands.

Sakura stepped into the kitchen a moment later, a stack of grease-smeared bakery trays in hand. “You were gone for a few minutes. It everything all right?”

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Got startled by a couple cats, that’s all.”

“Oh.” She deposited the trays in the sink and went to work washing them. “Well, I saved you some of that frappe.” She pointed her elbow toward a small paper cup on one of the prep tables. “You should try it. It’s really good.”

He picked up the cup, swishing its contents around a little before taking a sip. It _was _good, sweet with a citrusy bite, and before he could really think about it, he found himself saying, “You know, I bet Yuzuriha would love to feature this on her blog.”

Sakura perked up. “Do you think so? Hold on, she’s here right now, let me go ask her.”

“Wha—wait,” he began, but Sakura was already gone, the kitchen door swinging shut behind her. Watanuki groaned. “Why did you have to go and say that?” he hissed to himself. “Now we’ll have to make a dozen of these things tomorrow. Probably in the middle of the morning rush! Can’t you keep your mouth shut?”

No one answered, and he reluctantly went back to work, starting with the dishes. A few minutes later, Sakura returned, a delighted smile on her face. “So I made one of those frappes for Yuzuriha, and she saved a picture of it on her phone right away, but she said if she was going to do a piece on it, we needed a name for it, and now we’re calling it the Tropical Storm.”

Watanuki sagged against the edge of the sink. “All right. Add the recipe to the book. We'll need it if it's going to be on the blog.”

Sakura nodded absently, moving toward the door, then hesitated. “Hey, Watanuki, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

He tensed, his scrubbing pad going still against the soapy plate in his hand. “What is it?”

“You know the electrical troubles we’ve been having? Well, my brother’s friend Yukito said that sometimes spirits can interfere with electrical fields, and I was wondering . . .” She trailed off, casting a meaningful look in his direction.

“You were wondering if I’d seen anything,” he finished, managing to keep most of the reluctance out of his voice. Sakura nodded.

He sighed, rinsing off the plate and setting it in the sanitizer sink to his right. Sakura knew about his abilities, of course. It was hard to hide them when he so often had trouble distinguishing between a regular person and a convincing ghost. His only alternative would have been to pretend he was schizophrenic, and that wouldn’t have explained why the drinks he made for those ghosts had a habit of vanishing into the twilight. But he didn’t like to talk about it. Having any kind of magic at all was dangerous. Having the sort of magic that let you talk to spirits drew all sorts of weirdos. He’d only had to meet a few would-be necromancers before the experiences convinced him it was better to hide his magic whenever possible.

“I’ve seen a few ghosts hanging around, and the usual shades, but most of them are regulars. If any of them have been messing with the lights, I wasn’t around to see it.”

“Oh. Okay.” Sakura eyed him, running her teeth over her lower lip.

He suppressed a sigh. “You can ask, you know. I can tell you have more questions.”

“It’s just—I don’t know much about ghosts, or shades, or any of that. I know there are different kinds, but . . .”

“They’re not anything you have to worry about,” he said. “Most of them aren’t dangerous. Well, poltergeists can be, I guess, and so can regular ghosts if you offend them, or if you’re the reason they can’t move on to the afterlife. But most spirits who brush up against the daylight just want to be seen.”

“I guess that makes sense.” Sakura frowned. “Do you think—I mean, is it possible that you being here sort of . . . draws them?”

His fingers tensed around the plate he’d been scrubbing. He wiped away the last traces of raspberry syrup and rinsed it under the spray-head before sliding it into the steaming pink-tinged water of sanitizer sink. “I guess so,” he said at last. “Yuuko says spirits are naturally drawn to those who can sense them, and my gift is more powerful than most—I can even see shades.”

“Shades?”

He grimaced. “Right. So ghosts are basically the echoes of people who died but couldn’t move on. They linger in the twilight and sometimes drift back into the daylight—into our world. Not all ghosts are dangerous, but most of them stick around because they have some driving force or emotion compelling them to stay: unfinished business, revenge, loved ones they can’t bear to leave behind, that sort of thing. Ghosts can influence the world around them to an extent. Some can even make themselves visible to mundanes, or appear in mirrors or in dreams. The really powerful ones can turn into poltergeists—that’s when you get things like objects flying around the room, like you see in movies.” Mostly, that only happened to angry ghosts: spirits who’d been betrayed or abandoned and left to die, or a bunch of smaller spirits who became tangled together and ended up lashing out because their combined personalities were too volatile to coexist.

“Shades are different," he went on. "They’re like ghosts, but not quite as . . . present. They don’t have much power, and what power they _do_ have is too unfocused to manifest outside of the twilight. They don’t even really have distinct personalities. A lot of shades are just bundles of _feelings_, more like a shadow of whatever they used to be than an actual person.”

There were a couple shades that drifted through the cafe sometimes, a man and a woman who smelled of smoke and ashes. The woman had a stronger presence, enough that Watanuki could sometimes feel the brush of her fingertips as she drifted past, like the touch of a mother’s hand. She’d been a practitioner before she’d died. Once in a while, he caught a whiff of her magic when she passed, a trace of oregano beneath the smoke. It was the same scent he sometimes caught when something triggered the wards upstairs. Whoever the shades were, they’d made their home here once. Made it, and then lost it to the fire that had taken their lives.

Absorbed by his thoughts, he didn’t realize he’d fallen silent until the front door chimed. They both jumped, him sloshing soapy water over his apron, Sakura almost dropping the stack of plates she’d been collecting from the dish rack. She peered out through the doorway. “Oh, it’s Himawari and Doumeki,” she said, pushing her way through the swinging door.

“Himawari’s here?” Hastily, he rinsed and dried his hands, following Sakura out to the serving area. Himawari stood a few feet back from the counter, her dark eyes focused on the menu board, Doumeki looming behind her with his hands in his pockets. Watanuki ignored him, leaning against the counter to smile at Himawari. “Hey, welcome back!”

“Oh, Watanuki! I didn’t know you were working tonight.” Himawari’s face warmed; she stepped up to the counter, placing her hands on the cool faux-marble surface. “And Sakura, it’s always good to see you. I think I’ll just have a medium strawberry smoothie tonight.”

“Whipped cream?”

Himawari tapped her chin with her finger for a moment before nodding. “Just a little.”

“I’ll go get that started.”

Sakura hurried over to the blender, letting Watanuki have the register. “Anything else we can get for you?" he asked, typing in the order. "We’ve got a couple deli sandwiches left, if you’re hungry. Or maybe a strawberry pinwheel to go with your smoothie?”

“No, no. I’m all right.”

“I’ll take a small decaf coffee,” Doumeki said, producing a handful of ones. Watanuki gritted his teeth and took the money, adding the coffee to the order and counting out the change, all while clinging valiantly to his smile. _Who comes to a cafe just to order _decaf_, anyway?_ he thought venomously._ He’s lucky we haven’t emptied out the decaf brewer for the night._

“You’ll never guess what happened on my way here,” Himawari said before Watanuki’s thoughts could grow too vicious. He leaned forward, shifting his attention back to her, where it belonged. “So I was walking over here from campus, right?” she began. “And I’d just passed that pizzeria over on Cimarron—you know, the one with the big pizza-shaped sign out front.”

“Slice of Life?”

“Yeah, that one. Anyway, I was walking past, and the sign just __fell, __crashed to the sidewalk where I’d been standing ten seconds ago.”

A jolt went through his body, like someone had dropped an ice cube down the back of his shirt. “Are you all right? You didn’t get hit or anything, did you?”

“No, no.” Himawari fluttered her hands like she was shaking off a cobweb that had gotten wrapped around her fingers. “Nothing like that. But there was a car passing by right at that moment, and they kind of swerved, you know, and they crashed into a fire hydrant, and it spewed this _big _jet of water straight up into the air.”

“Oh, wow. Is everyone all right?”

Himawari nodded, pausing to thank Sakura as she slid Himawari’s smoothie across the counter. “The driver was a little bruised up from where his seatbelt held him back, but that was the worst of it. It’s still pretty wild, though, all of that happening at once. It’s lucky no one was badly hurt.”

“I guess so,” he murmured, the cold knot in his stomach gradually unraveling. “I’ve been in that pizzeria, and it always seemed well-maintained. I guess the sign must have been rusted from the rain or something. It’s strange.”

Doumeki took a sip from his coffee. “Yeah. Strange.”

“And where were you in all this?” Watanuki demanded. “Just standing around, I assume?”

“Oh, I didn’t run into Doumeki until after it all happened,” Himawari said. “He heard the crash and ran over to see if anybody needed help, and when they didn’t, he said he’d walk me to the cafe.”

Jealousy prickled at the back of Watanuki’s throat. Of _course_ Doumeki had been there to play the knight in shining armor while he'd been busy taking out the trash. “Did he? Well, good to know he’ll always show up after the danger has already passed.”

“There are dangerous things out there besides rusted signs,” Doumeki said, scratching absently at his ear, like he was only half paying attention.

Watanuki puffed up, ready to lay into him for his attitude, but something in Himawari’s face stopped him—a spark of worry, tucked away in the corners of her smile. Watanuki thought suddenly of the recent rumors, the hushed whispers he’d heard from customers: that there was a killer stalking the streets of Carnelian, hunting their next victim. An exaggeration, almost certainly, spurred on by the yet-unsolved murder that had happened a few weeks ago. But.

He met Doumeki’s eyes from across the counter and gave the slightest of nods. Doumeki had a black belt in two separate martial arts disciplines, and he was one of the best of the school’s archery club. Most of the time, his apparent perfection was an annoyance, but with a killer still wandering the streets . . . At least if Doumeki was with Himawari, he’d be able to fend off anyone who tried to attack her.

Hopefully.

“Anyway, I’d better head home,” Himawari said, fracturing the stilted silence. “You guys are closing soon, and my parents will worry if I’m out past eight.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Watanuki lifted his hand in a wave. “Stay safe out there.”

“You, too.” Himawari waved back, picking up her smoothie with her other hand, and walked away, Doumeki trailing behind her.

Watanuki watched them until they vanished beyond the view of the windows, worry a hot coal in his stomach._The murder was probably just a one-off, _he thought uneasily. _Some pissed-off jealous type, or a mugging gone wrong. _The papers hadn’t gone into much depth; the police suspected the attacker was a werewolf, based on the viciousness of the attack, but they were withholding most of the details until the investigation came to a close. Motive wasn’t something they’d speculated on, at least not publicly, and there hadn’t been any other attacks since. There was no reason to worry. Himawari would be fine, and so would everyone else in the city.

He held that thought close through the rest of his shift. Maybe if he held it close enough, he’d start to believe it.


End file.
